


Star-Crossed

by Lauriana25



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Agape Yuri Plisetsky, Anal Sex, Angst, Basically it's Romeo and Juliet with YOI characters, Comedy, Drama, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Ice Skating, Katsudon Seduction Technique, Kissing, Lots of references to the anime, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Romance, Slow Build, Strong Language, romeo and juliet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-06-26 09:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 111,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15660906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauriana25/pseuds/Lauriana25
Summary: The classic love story, "Romeo and Juliet", featuring the cast of "Yuri!!! On Ice".Set in beautiful Verona, our young lovers meet against the backdrop of a tempestuous Grand Prix season. Can their love end the feud? After all, "everything we do on the ice is love"...





	1. Prologue - Where We Lay Our Scene

**Author's Note:**

> I can't be the only one who's noticed that YOI has the _perfect_ cast for a Romeo and Juliet tale! Actually, I know I'm not, but I hope you enjoy my spin on the story as much as I've loved envisioning it ^_^
> 
> I'll be posting a new chapter every week, Real Life permitting. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> *bows with a flourish* I pray thee, relax and enjoy the show xxx

Not a lot of people know this but, in the world of competitive skating, almost all the professionals were once employed by two major companies; **Team Capulet** , who mostly employed skaters from across Asia, but were known to scout rising stars from Europe; and **Montague Corp** , a conglomerate based in Eastern Europe, with their headquarters in St Petersburg. Every year, these two corporations would battle each other on the ice, showing the world the exceptional talent that they found for each season.

            For years, this was a running joke in the skating world; who’s champion would claim the gold medal? Which team would have the most medals? Would the “loser” foot the bill for all the champagne at the closing banquet? It was all in good humour. At first.

            But, somewhere along the way (no one remembers when), this rivalry turned sour. Fights began to break out between competitors off the ice, causing a media frenzy. Fans began to squabble amongst themselves, creating rifts within arenas – sometimes whole cities.

            Until, a few years ago, the chaos reached a bloody crescendo.

            At the end of the World Grand Prix, the gold medallist – a representative of Team Capulet – was brutally attacked and subsequently died. The next day, a skater from Montague Corp was hospitalised. Team Capulet pointed the finger for the tragedy at Montague Corp; Montague Corp blamed Team Capulet.

            Whether one company was responsible for the bloodshed or not was never confirmed, but it didn’t matter. The battle lines had been drawn.

            Coaches and managers on both sides tried their best to keep the “feud” out of the public eye, but the rise of social media proved to be their Achilles’ heel. Competitors and fans revelled in spreading fake news and slander, just to stir up trouble. Insults were traded through memes and status updates. Photos were cropped in the most demeaning way. Private matters were put under a very public microscope.

            The CEOs of the two companies seemed to be the only ones who enjoyed the tension. It created more drama on the ice, bringing more media attention to their skaters. More attention led to more publicity and sponsor deals. Ultimately, it came down to money. And as long as the cash poured in, the CEOs chose to turn a blind eye to the bloodshed. Injuries were brushed under the carpet. Public brawls were shrugged off as drunken antics of adrenaline-fuelled athletes. It all became as much a part of the competitions as the costumes and the ice itself.

            Our story begins in Verona, Italy.

            After another horrendous season of fighting, the World Skating Federation was set to cancel the Grand Prix. There wasn’t a city in the world that was willing to host any part of the tournament anymore; the cost of the clean-up after each event was getting too much.

            Until Anton Escales, the CEO of Verona Ice, approached the WSF with an unusual proposal; host the entire season in Verona. A brand new, state-of-the-art arena would be built in the heart of the city, and each team would be housed in their own custom-built hotel (on opposite sides of the new arena).

            It would create thousands of jobs, from construction right through to merchandise, and the close proximity would allow for constant surveillance, therefore ensuring that violence and damage would be kept to a minimum.

            It had taken a lot of persuasion – the idea of keeping both teams so close together for the best part of a year, without the reprieve of travelling or training, sounded like a horrific idea. But Anton Escales gave his word; he would keep the feud under control.

            He had high hopes. After all, Verona was always associated with romance, beauty, literature and high culture. Surely some of that atmosphere would rub off on the skaters!

            But the previous year had set a new record, on and off the ice. The professionals were no longer hiding their animosity behind their phones and the fans were baying for blood.

            As the first stage of the World Grand Prix approached, the organisers began to pray for a miracle. Something to end the feud once and for all.


	2. Throw Your Mistemper'd Skates To The Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for our cast to come to centre-stage.
> 
> Anton Escales has his work cut out for him already, and the Grand Prix season hasn't even begun...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is where the story begins... I hope you enjoy this <3

Anton Escales sat behind his dark-wood desk, his face set like stone. He tried to keep his broad shoulders from slumping in agitation; years of training as a skater in his youth had engrained an elegant posture into his bones, but perhaps his time as a coach, manager and then CEO of Verona Ice had made him relax too much. He felt like his shoulders were heavy, like some invisible weight was pulling him down. Of course, he knew the source of that weight was sitting directly in front of him.

Facing him were the four coaches of the two major teams; Celestino and Minako of Team Capulet, and Yakov and Lilia of Montague Corp. Four adults, yet all were behaving like children. Sulky glances, muttered insults. It was enough to make Escales’ head pound.

            “You know why you’re all here,” he finally said, his rich Italian accent slicing though the tension like a well-wielded blade, “You’re here because of yesterday’s debacle.”

            The coaches immediately started to talk over each other, accusations flying like bats, until Escales let out an irritated sigh; not so loud as to sound like a shout, but loud enough to make the squabbling cease, at least for the time being.

            “Three times. _Three times_ I’ve had reports of public brawling between your skaters. Yesterday’s involved your teenage rebel, Yurio Plisetsky,” he jabbed his finger at Celestino and Minako, “and your deviant, Christophe Giacometti,” he added towards Yakov and Lilia with equal contempt, “The competition doesn’t even start until tomorrow night! Your teams have been in Verona for _one week_ – can’t you keep them under control?”

            Celestino sniggered, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He nervously ran a hand through his long chestnut hair, that one long strand in front of his face bouncing like an antenna. “Yurio is just a young lad, full of adrenaline and hormones. Surely he can’t be held accountable for being dragged into an argument beyond his control?” The middle-aged Italian was trying to sound non-chalant, but he spoke too quickly for Escales’ liking, like he was trying to think on his feet. He remembered when they were children, training in Milan for Juniors, how Celestino would always babble like this when he was trying to buy himself time (usually because their coach had caught him doing something stupid).

            ‘You haven’t changed, old friend,’ he thought, suppressing a sly smile behind his hand.

            Yakov snorted. Escales stared at the older Russian man. At one time, he had temporarily been Escales’ coach. Until his accident. That was a long time ago, longer than Escales cared to think about, but he noticed how the lines on Yakov’s face had become deeper, how his grey hair had thinned so much his hairline had almost receded to the level of his ears.

            ‘Has it been so long?’ he thought to himself.

“That boy has hot Russian blood in him, it’s only natural for him to test his strength against his competitors. However,” he added after seeing Celestino raise his eyebrows, clearly shocked by the older coach’s agreement, “Christophe was not the one to start the fight - ”

            “For once!” Minako hissed before Celestino had the chance to stop her. Escales held his breath; he had heard about the Japanese ballet-dancer-turned-coach, how she tended to run her mouth before thinking about tact. He’d heard someone call her passionate; all he saw was a spitting cat with her claws out.

            “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Lilia hissed through gritted teeth, making her thin face seem ever more stretched than usual. Escales remembered her too from his stint under Yakov’s wing; she had been his wife at the time, and Escales remembered how her poise made her appear ethereal. She had been so beautiful back then. But, he thought, time had not been kind to the former Prima Ballerina; her face constantly pinching like she had smelled something foul under her shoe, her steely eyes always flashing hostility. Escales almost felt afraid of her. Almost.

            “Oh, come on! Christophe is a walking disaster zone!” Minako shouted, her voice echoing around the small office. “Every time he opens his mouth it’s to start a fight!”

            “Look who’s talking!” Lilia snapped.

            “You’ve got something to say to me?” Minako was already on her feet, glaring at the woman sitting opposite her.

            And so it began again. Escales leaned on his elbows, rubbing his hands over his brow as the two women began hurling personal insults at each other. Although the men didn’t stand, they still yelled at each other, gesturing wildly as they accused each other’s skater of starting the fight. Escales was beginning to see where the professionals learned it from.

            “Enough!”

            His voice vibrated through the room, making everyone freeze to stare at him as he slowly stood, his fingers resting firmly on the desk. He glared at each one in turn, until they sat back down, hands clasped in their laps.

            “Do you know why the Grand Prix is being held here?” he asked slowly, keeping a check on his rising temper, “It’s because no one else will put up with this shit anymore! That’s right – _every single city in the whole world has had enough of you._ ”

            He paused to let that thought sink in. Sure enough, he watched as the four coaches shared the same trail of emotions; shock. Disappointment. Shame.

            “I’ve put my whole career on the line for the opportunity to host the Grand Prix. I’ve given my own personal promise to a lot of people that I will keep you all under control. At first, I thought that keeping you all in one place would be the best solution – after all, you can’t run away from your troubles by ducking back to headquarters for months at a time. But now I see that I’m going to need to use a more drastic approach to the whole matter.”

            Minako shared an uneasy glance with Celestino. Yakov looked down at his clenched fists while Lilia seemed to be holding her breath.

            Escales turned to face the window. He could see three looming structures in his panoramic view of Verona; in the centre was the arena, oval like the great Coliseum in Rome, the sunlight glinting off the many mirrored windows. On the left was the hotel specifically built to house Team Capulet, the white stone glowing in the sun. On the right was the equally impressive hotel for Montague Corp; Escales had insisted on the hotels being identical, down to the last doorknob. He was not going to be accused of favouritism.

            He caught sight of his reflection in the glass and sighed. His thick black hair was beginning to thin, much like Yakov’s, with a sliver of grey protruding from his left temple. He had hoped that his hair would fade to grey, like the colour being washed out of a cloth – gradual and in one direction – but it seemed like he was doomed to age in patches, looking like a badger. He noticed lines on his brow and around his deep brown eyes that he hadn’t seen before. Perhaps by the Grand Prix Final, he would have more wrinkles than skin, he thought bitterly.

            He had once been tipped to be a World Champion. He’d even switched his home rink from here in Verona to St Petersburg to train under Yakov, knowing his reputation as a coach was, literally, worth its weight in gold. But an accident on the ice during his first season had meant a very, _very_ early retirement. He absentmindedly rubbed at his hip, imagining that he could feel the pins that he knew lay under his skin.

            But his love of skating had not diminished. As soon as he was fit enough, he had turned his hand to teaching children at a small rink. This led to coaching a Junior Champion, which led to Verona Ice approaching him to join their small, but distinguished, company. Now, he was CEO. He had worked so hard, proving to everyone that there was life beyond the spotlights. That he could still be a part of the sport he was so passionate about.

            And he was going to be damned if it would all end here.

            “You either all behave, or you all go home.”

            He turned to face them and was rewarded with the desired looks of apprehension and shock.

            “I mean it; either you keep your skaters in check, or you’ll all be on the first flight back to wherever you came from. The future of the World Grand Prix lies with you now; how your skaters choose to behave will determine its fate.”

            And with that very obvious threat looming over them, the coaches muttered small words of agreement and shuffled out, making sure to give each other space to leave peacefully.

            Escales leaned back and stared at the ceiling, a loud sigh escaping his lips. He just hoped that what he said was enough to keep trouble at bay.

            Despite the niggle of doubt that was beginning to grow in his gut.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave comments - I'd love to know how you feel about this fic.
> 
> Next chapter coming next week. Hope to see you then xxx


	3. Is The Day So Young?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter our hero <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo....I know I said I was going to be posting once a week, but Chris is such a drama queen, he insisted that I posted this early ;P
> 
> Hope you enjoy xxx

               Christophe Giacometti, or “Chris” as he always preferred to be called, was wandering aimlessly around Verona, sighing to himself. He was _so_ bored! Yakov and Lilia were still with Escales (no doubt discussing his little…show…from yesterday) so training had been postponed until later that afternoon. And as much as he loved shopping – especially in Italy – he was distracted. Listless. Like he was waiting for something to happen.

              ‘I suppose today would seem so dull compared to yesterday,’ the Swiss skater smirked to himself as he stood outside a boutique, checking his reflection in the window. Naturally, the pouting lips and expertly groomed blonde hair that he saw were perfect, but he never tired of checking.

               It wasn’t his fault that little brat got in his face, all guns blazing. He’d been totally innocent…well, almost, he remembered with another smirk.

               It was just too easy to tease Yurio. He was like a powder keg, just waiting to explode at the slightest spark.

              Chris had been in town with his teammate, Georgi Popovich, when out of nowhere he had felt a sharp kick to the centre of his back, knocking him into Georgi with a startled “oomph!”

              Chris had turned to see a snarling Yurio, fists clenched.

             “You’d better not try any of that crap from last year, shithead!” he had hissed.

              Chris had twisted his lips into a cold sneer as he straightened himself up, towering over the teenager.

             “Why?” he had purred, “Scared you might finally admit to yourself that you like it?”

             “I swear to fucking god, you come anywhere near me - ”

             “Hey, Georgi!” Chris had called over his shoulder to his amused teammate, “you’re my witness – did _I_ go anywhere near _him_?”

              Georgi had shaken his head, smile fixed in a lopsided grin. “No, I’m pretty sure he came to you.”

             “That’s what I thought,” Chris’ smile stretched, “I think this little kitten has the hots for me, he just doesn’t know how to ask me nicely.”

              Yurio had visibly balked, face burning. “I’m straight, you pervert!”

             “And I’m really a woman.” Chris had quipped, eyebrows wiggling as Georgi snorted derisively. “Don’t be shy, little kitten,” he had whispered in Yurio’s ear, “it can’t be very fun in that closet of yours.”

             That had earned him a sharp shove to the chest, followed by another kick, this time to his knee, sending him flying to the floor.

             Before Yurio had had a chance to land another blow, several fans had joined in the scuffle, ready to defend their respective skater. Unfortunately, a police officer had just so happened to be coming out of a nearby café and had radioed for assistance.

             So Chris wasn’t to blame. Not really.

            “Penny for your thoughts, Chris?”

            Chris smiled at the familiar voice of his best friend and teammate, Victor Nikiforov. That Russian lint in his playful voice always made his smile twitch, not to mention other regions of his anatomy, despite their mutual platonic friendship.

            “About time you showed up, Victor,” he chuckled as he turned to face his friend, “I was beginning to think you – oh my god! _What have you done to your hair?!_ ”

            Chris’ jaw dropped. The last time he’d seen Victor, his gorgeous silver hair had flowed past his waist. There wasn’t a woman in the world who hadn’t envied his luscious locks, especially the way it shimmered under the spotlights on the rink, how it fell like a star-studded curtain around his broad shoulders or could be decorated with crystals or roses to enhance his beautiful costumes.

            Now it was cut incredibly short at the back and sides, save for a long fringe that almost covered his left eye, revealing a long slender neck.

            Victor grinned in fake embarrassment at his friend’s shocked expression, flicking the fringe away to flash his brilliant blue eyes and bat his lashes innocently.

            “Don’t you think it suits me?” he asked, his voice lilting slightly. He even placed a hand behind his head, the other on his poised hip for a more dramatic pose.

            It took Chris a second to pick his jaw up. “Uh, yeah! I mean – wow! You went from “Princess” to “Prince Charming”, darling! I’m serious,” he continued, despite Victor’s chuckling, “You look…older!”

            “Oh, thanks!” Victor pouted.

            “Sorry, wrong word!” Chris said quickly, holding his hands out apologetically, fluttering his golden eyelashes. “I meant, mature. Handsome.”

            “That’s better!” Victor smiled as he finally embraced his friend. He’d only been home for a couple of months after the end of the previous season, but he had missed Chris’ way with words.

            “So, what have I missed?” Victor asked, but before Chris could open his mouth, his attention was drawn to a young man in an official “Montague Corp” blazer. Or rather, his attention was drawn to the deep purple bruise under his eye.

            Victor sighed, his heart heavy. Without saying anything else, he shouldered his rucksack and began to walk towards their hotel. Chris jogged a little to catch up to him, caught off guard by Victor’s sudden change in mood.

            “How many?” Victor asked, his voice barely audible over the bustle of the street.

            Chris drew a breath, watching Victor’s shoulders stiffen. “Three.”

            “Three fights already?” Victor exclaimed. “The competition hasn’t even started yet!”

            “Don’t fret, _mon ami_. There’ll be plenty more where that came from!” Chris joked, and instantly regretted when he saw Victor’s face grow dark.

            “Why?” Victor felt his chest tighten, “Why does there have to be more? Aren’t you bored of all this fighting and squabbling, Chris? I know I am! Verona is a city of beauty and romance, not war!”

            Chris couldn’t help but laugh; Victor was always so melodramatic. He often wondered if Victor had missed his true calling as an actor.

            “Well then, let’s show this city of romance what true beauty is!” He wrapped his arm around Victor’s shoulders and pulled him into a one-armed hug, beaming. “Boys’ night out tonight!”

            “Tonight?” Victor raised his eyebrow. “Is that such a good idea, given the competition starts tomorrow?”

            Chris waved his hand dismissively. “Pfft! Are you telling me the great Victor Nikiforov is saying no to a night of hot sweaty bodies and free-flowing alcohol? Tell me, _mon ami_ , when they cut your hair, did they also cut off your prowess?”

            Victor barked a loud laugh. Trust Chris to be so lewd!

            “Besides,” Chris continued, his voice sobering a little despite his wicked smile, “I think Georgi needs a night on the town.”

            Victor groaned. “What happened this time?”

            “What do you think happened? Anya dumped him – again!”

            Victor rubbed his forehead. How many times was it now that Georgi Popovich had had his heart broken by that girl? When was he going to learn?

           "So?"

          “Hmm?” Victor pursed his lips, his famous heart-shaped mouth almost disappearing.

            “Are you up for it?” Chris asked. Victor could see from the glint in his eyes that he was not going to take no for an answer, so he sighed with reluctance before nodding, his fringe bouncing in front of his face.

            “ _Bellisima_!” Chris cried dramatically, hugging Victor. “I’ve read about this really cool club not too far from here. Apparently, it’s _the_ place to be!”

            Victor couldn’t help but smile warmly at Chris’ enthusiasm. He was a terrible flirt, and no doubt tonight was going to be the perfect excuse for him to find his latest hook-up, but he was also a really good friend, and he knew that a night of loud music was a perfect distraction for Georgi.

            “Whatever you say,” Victor said, “Just text me the details later. I’d better go and check in if we’re going out; I still have the smell of plane on my clothes!”

            “And there I was, thinking you’d finally changed your cologne!” Chris winked.

            As Victor turned to head to the hotel, he paused outside the arena. As he gazed up at the enormous structure, his mouth set into a hard line.

            He was the five-time World Champion, the crowning glory of Montague Corp. But this year he was struggling to come up with a new concept for his routines. He’d always loved surprising the audience – thrived on the excited “ahhh” that followed him along the ice. But he still hadn’t found that glimmer of inspiration that made his heart fly. That made him dream of gold.

            As his eyes wandered over the arena, he spotted a cluster of people making their way inside, all wearing the training gear of Team Capulet. Not wanting to become part of yet another public spectacle, he turned on his heel to go to his hotel, but not before realising that there was one more person in the group then there had been a year before.

            A new skater.

            Victor paused for a moment to try and get a better look, but the person had already ducked inside. He smirked, already pitying the newcomer; the poor fool had no idea what he/she was getting themselves into.

            “Welcome to the madness.” He muttered under his breath as he finally made his way to his hotel.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I getting the references right? Are the characters taking shape yet?
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment xxxx


	4. It Is An Honour I Dream Not Of (Because It Gives Me Panic Attacks!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the arena, Team Capulet are putting their new recruit through his paces...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here he comes!!!!

            “That’s it, Yuuri! You almost had it then!”

            Yuuri Katsuki huffed in frustration. This was his first practise at the arena and he already felt overwhelmed. How on earth had he managed to impress the higher-ups at Team Capulet to get him on to the team? Was he going to be good enough this season? And why were his new teammates being so damned _nice_ when he screwed up?!

            “Sara, come on! A toddler could have made that jump!” he snapped at Sara Crispino, the young Italian girl who stood nearby, making her jump, her large violet eyes shimmering. He instantly regretted it; he hated seeing people upset, especially when he knew they were only trying to help him. He just…hated feeling so useless.

            “So that makes you, what? A little baby?” quipped a harsh voice with a thick accent.

            Yuuri turned to see his youngest teammate, an incredibly skinny Russian boy with long blonde hair that fell over his face like a curtain, save for a tiny gap that allowed one piercing green eye to glare at pretty much everyone who crossed his path, skate over to him. He was also called Yuri, only with a slightly different emphasis on the “u” sound, but he’d been told to call him Yurio, for some unknown reason.

            “Be nice, Yurio!” Sara rebuked, crossing her arms. “He’s just getting warmed up.”

            Yurio snorted derisively. “Please! If he’s still warming up, we’d better tell the judges to allocate him a whole day for his program! I mean, seriously? Your jumps look like shit! And your step sequence just then looked like you were pissed!”

            Yuuri felt his chest grow tight. His head started to spin. A layer of sweat formed on his forehead despite the cold on the rink.

            _Look like shit. Look like shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!_

“That’s enough, Yurio!” Sara snapped as she reached for Yuuri to wrap her arm around his shoulders. She gasped as she felt the tension there and looked down at his face. She called out for her brother, Michele, her voice squeaking.

            Yuuri was about to have a panic attack. His face was pale and was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He was panting for breath, but it was coming out in loud, ragged noises, like his lungs weren’t working properly. But what scared Sara the most, was the way his eyes were so wide and unblinking. It reminded her of her pet rabbit, Bella, before they had to-

            She gulped down a lump in her throat and hugged Yuuri tight, whispering in a soothing tone until her older brother, Michele, made it to them. He prised Yuuri from Sara’s tight grip and bent down until he was level with Yuuri’s eyes. He kept contact, all the while gently coaxing the Japanese boy out of the dark pit in his mind until the light started to come back in his eyes.

            One minute, Yuuri was staring into nothingness, the sensation of the darkness swallowing him whole; the next he was staring into two pools of violet. This stretched out until Yuuri saw Michele’s strong jaw and his chocolate-brown hair. Then the ice behind and below him. The lights always made it look like the rink was made of diamonds, and Yuuri had always been enthralled by it.

            Diamond-light was _so_ much better than the dark.

            “That’s it, kiddo,” Michele smiled gently, giving Yuuri’s shoulder a comforting pat, “welcome back to the land of the living.”

            Yuuri took a shaking breath and thanked Michele. But even that sounded feeble.

            Michele turned to Yurio, his eyes flashing darkly. Yurio gulped.

            “H-hey, don’t look at me like that, Crispino! I didn’t know he was going to flip like that! It-it was just a joke!”

            “You _know_ about his anxiety, Yurio!” Michele snapped, his brow furrowed, “You can’t just launch a verbal attack like that on him! Haven’t you run your mouth off enough this week?”

            Yurio squared up to the Italian lad; which, considering Michele was several inches taller than him, should have looked comical. But everyone knew that Yurio had a vicious temper; how much of that was typical teenaged angst was anyone’s guess. But once he got ticked off, he was like a tiger.

            “Fuck you, Mikey!” he bellowed so loud the words echoed around the arena. “How many times do I have to tell you all – _that wasn’t my fucking fault_!”

            “Not your fault? Jesus, Yurio, you went right up to Chris and told him to keep the fuck away from you! _You went to him_!”

            “That faggot needs to know where his boundary is! I’m not putting up with his shit this year!”

            “So you thought the best way to avoid a fight was to start one?!”

            “FUCK YOU!”

            “HEY!”

            They all turned. Minako was standing at the edge of the rink, her hands on her hips. Yurio gulped again. Even from this distance, he could see that she was _pissed._ She beckoned them all over, keeping her eyes fixed on Yurio as the group skated over to her.

            “We are _not_ going to go over this again,” she snarled, making Yurio shrink a little bit, “You’re just lucky that Escales didn’t ask for you to be at the meeting today. I’m sure your smart-ass mouth would have got us all kicked out of Italy!”

            Yurio was about to say something, but something in Minako’s eyes made him visibly shiver. So he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and sulked instead.

            Minako took a deep breath before turning her attention to Yuuri, who felt himself go rigid. Was she about to yell at him too?

            “Another panic attack?” her voice was soft as she addressed him. It was comforting. It reminded Yuuri of their time in Hasetsu, where she’d trained him in ballet before introducing to skating. Back then, apart from his parents and big sister, Mari, she had been the only person who he could talk to about his anxiety.

            He remembered the day when she told him that Team Capulet had expressed an interest in him. He’d had such a major panic attack he thought he was actually having a heart attack! Until Minako had managed to calm him down, that is. When she told him that she would be coming with him, he had felt loads better.

            Now, here she was again. Minako the coach. Minako the friend.

            Just Minako.

            Yuuri nodded numbly when he realised he hadn’t actually answered her.

            “It was Yurio’s fault!” Sara said quickly, which earned her a jab in the arm from the Russian boy.

            “Snitch!” he hissed.

            “I don’t care whose fault it is,” Minako said firmly, “All I care about is that you’re here for him _when_ it happens. This is a big season for Yuuri and he’s going to need everyone’s support to get through it.”

            Yuuri hated it when people talked about him like he wasn’t there. Especially when the subject was his anxiety. It was like he stopped being a person. Just this delicate thing that needed to be swaddled in cotton wool and patronised.

            Of course, this didn’t help the knot in his stomach ease any. Nothing did. Except skating.

            On the ice, he could lose himself in the music and pretend, just for a few minutes, that he wasn’t Yuuri Katsuki, the famous screw-up. He could be any character. Any person.

            Well, maybe only _one_ person, but he’d never admit that to anyone here.

            “He’ll be fine, coach,” Michele said as he wrapped a supportive arm around Yuuri (he clearly has no idea how patronising this is, Yuuri thought bitterly) “We’ve got his back – haven’t we, Yurio?” he added a little too much emphasis on the name, glaring across at the blonde.

            Yurio snorted. “Whatever. If the little piggy can’t handle a joke from a teammate, he’s going to shit himself once those Montague whores get a load of him at the press conference tomorrow.”

            Yuuri hated to admit it, but Yurio did have a point. His anxiety had always been a focal point throughout his whole career. And, given what he’d already seen on social media about this so-called “feud” between their two teams, he was fairly confident that his competitors would jump at the chance to give him a reason to freak out.

            Not that it took much to do that, he thought sadly.

            But he couldn’t help feeling that the fighting was such a huge waste of time and energy. That is, if it was anywhere near as bad as he’d seen online. He was sure most of it was fake news. Right?

            “Is it really that bad?” he asked in a small voice, “I mean – we’re all here for the same reason: to skate. Surely that’s more important than who actually wins?”

            They all stared at him for a moment with wide, slow-blinking eyes. Until Yurio’s lips shook as he struggled to hold in a laugh. He failed miserably, and soon everyone, even Minako, was giggling.

            “You’re not in Kansas anymore, little piggy,” Yurio sniggered, “This is the Big Leagues – Team Capulet versus Montague Corp. _Nothing_ is more important than whipping those pussies!”

            Yuuri’s heart sank as he saw Sara and Michele share Yurio’s enthusiastic nod. He watched a look pass between them all; it reminded him of one of those Saturday morning cartoons where the heroes brace themselves before heading into battle.

            ‘So this is war.’ He thought, feeling a cold hand brush down his spine.

            Minako seemed to notice his depression and clapped her hands brightly, snapping him out of himself.

            “Okay, guys, you heard our little kitten!” she ignored him when he swore at her for calling him a kitten – again, “If we’re going to get that gold medal, you’d better get back to practise! Chop chop!” she clapped her hands again and they all pushed off the wall to start practise again.

            Yuuri drew a deep breath.

            ‘Okay,’ he thought, ‘If this really is a war, I’d better make myself into a better soldier. Everyone’s counting on me to be better than I am. I can’t let them down.’

            That knot in his gut twisted again, but this time he ignored it.

 

***

 

            Celestino sighed. He’d just watched that whole farce with his team and was thinking that, if this carried on, they wouldn’t be the united front that they needed to show the world tomorrow. He just hoped that this was just kids blowing off steam.

            A cough brought his attention back to the group standing with him at the side of the rink. Yuuri’s parents, Hiroko and Toshiya, were watching their son anxiously. When he’d begun to have a panic attack, Hiroko was all but ready to launch on to the ice, but her husband had gently held her back, saying that he needed to start relying on his teammates for support. She complied, but Celestino had seen her heart wrench.

            The other person standing with them, however, hadn’t been phased by the drama. In fact, it was like he _enjoyed_ it. A young man with tanned skin (probably from a sunbed rather than genetics, Celestino thought) and steely-grey eyes. His hair was that not-totally-black-not-completely-grey colour and was cut incredibly short at the sides and back, save for a thick mop of hair that fell in waves from the top of his head. Celestino always thought it made him look like a pineapple that had been left in the sun for too long, but given the teasing he always received about his own ponytail he figured he wasn’t one to judge.

            But still, Celestino knew he did _not_ like this kid.

            Jean-Jacques Leroy, the Canadian Independent skater, was grinning his famous smile. The press loved it; Celestino thought it made the young man look smug.

            “So that’s Yuuri,” Jean-Jacques smirked, “wow, the rumours about his anxiety weren’t exaggerated!”

            “Did you come here just to stake out the competition, JJ?” Celestino’s voice was colder than normal, but he’d already had a bad morning with Escales, and now JJ was getting on his nerves.

            JJ held his hands out, palms facing Celestino in an apologetic stance, his smile unwavering.

            “Actually, I come in peace!” he quipped. When he didn’t get the desired laugh he was looking for, he pressed on, “I have a business proposition for you. Well, for Yuuri, really.”

            “Business proposition?” Celestino repeated, crossing his arms. “I didn’t realise you were in a position to do business with anyone, seeing as you’re not affiliated with a major team.”

            JJ made a derisive noise with his lips, and it set Celestino’s teeth on edge. _Man_ , this kid was annoying!

            “I’ve won more medals than any other skater in this year’s competition! I have sponsors fighting for my endorsement and enough money that I could probably buy this arena if I wanted to!”

            “Last time I checked, Victor Nikiforov has been the World Champion for the last five years. Or was that just a nightmare of mine?” Celestino’s patience was really wearing thin, but at least he enjoyed the twitch that tugged at JJ’s temple at the mention of the Russian champion.

            “It’s not the colour of the medal that’s important – it’s how many you take home!” JJ stated matter-of-factly.

            “Spoken like a true runner-up,” Celestino said, “Now, if you’ll excuse us - ”

            “Wait a minute!” JJ exclaimed, incredulous as the Italian turned away. “Okay, so Nikiforov _is_ the current champion. But he’s not as young as he used to be, and the word on the street is that he’s lost his edge this year. Which means, I’m the hot contender for the gold medal.”

            “Congratulations,” Celestino drawled sarcastically, “And?”

            “And,” JJ grinned, “When I win the gold medal, I’ve found the perfect way to end this feud once and for all!” He threw his arms out wide, like he’d just discovered the meaning of life.

            Celestino raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

            JJ nodded excitedly. “I’m going to start my own team! One to rival Team Capulet and Montague Corp. And I want Yuuri to be the first to sign up!”

            Hiroko gasped and raised her pudgy hands to her lips. Toshiya looked like his eyes were going to pop through his thick glasses.

            Celestino just scoffed.

            “You? You’re going to take on the Big Two singlehandedly? And you want to drag Yuuri into it? Tell me, JJ, when was the last time you had your head examined? I think you’ve got something loose up there.”

            “I’m being serious!” JJ snapped. It was the first time Celestino had seen that famous grin falter. “Look, I’ve watched Yuuri’s old routines – he’s good. Better than good! He just needs some more confidence. And who better to give him confidence than yours truly?” Celestino fought the urge to smack himself as JJ struck his signature pose; arms crossed, both thumbs and index fingers pointing upwards to form “JJ”. He thought that was just something he did for the cameras, but here he was, striking a pose like they were supposed to be impressed by it!

            “And,” JJ continued, “I really believe that keeping Yuuri away from all the…drama…will bring out the best in him. I already have a rink at my disposal back in Toronto. I plan to make it my main base when I start my team. There’s no representatives of the Big Two in Canada, so it’ll be perfect to give Yuuri the calming environment he needs to beat his anxiety.”

            Celestino actually paused at that. For once, JJ seemed to be making sense; Yuuri was truly a gifted skater, Celestino had seen that himself five years ago when he’d spotted him at a rink in Detroit. But his anxiety was crippling him. He had initially thought that bringing him to Team Capulet would give him a confidence boost, but after what he’d seen today, perhaps that had been a bad decision.

            He looked over at Hiroko and Toshiya. Yuuri might have been twenty-three years old, but he still heavily relied upon his parents for support and advice. That was why they, along with his sister, Mari, had come all the way from Hasetsu, Japan, to Verona; they wanted to be there for their son in person rather than a phone call away.

            “Yuuri’s such a fragile boy,” Hiroko said quietly, wringing her hands, “He’s never been good at adapting to change.”

            Toshiya nodded in agreement. “It was a surprise for us when he signed up with Team Capulet. We thought the pressure would be too much for him.” A quick glance over his shoulder at the rink revealed that his concern hadn’t been appeased by today’s display.

            “So perhaps switching to yet another team wouldn’t be a good idea.” JJ seemed to deflate a little bit at the older Japanese’s man’s words.

            “Maybe in a few years, when he’s had a chance to get used to such a competitive atmosphere…” Hiroko tried to sound optimistic, but it trailed off at the end of the sentence.

            Celestino brought a finger to his lips thoughtfully. Given Yuuri’s age and track record, he doubted the lad would last another season before the pressure forced him to retire. He wanted to see what happened at the first stage; perhaps something would kick in once practise stopped and it all became real.

            “Tell you what, JJ,” Celestino said slowly, “I’ll think about your proposal, at least from a professional point of view. I’ll grant you, some of the things you’ve said make some sense. However,” he added quickly when he saw JJ’s face brighten, “I’m not going to talk to Yuuri about this until after the Grand Prix is underway; I want to get a feel for his strengths before I approach him with this.”

            “Fair enough,” JJ’s grin looked ready to split his face as he confidently offered Celestino his hand. The older man reluctantly shook it, feeling like he’d made a deal with the Devil. And with a handshake offered to both of Yuuri’s parents, JJ took his leave and cheerfully said his goodbyes.

            “Confident, isn’t he?” Hiroko said, stunned.

            Celestino snorted. “You have no idea!”

            “Do you really think this is a good idea?” she asked, her brows knitted together.

            Celestino sighed, turning to watch his skaters. Things seemed to have calmed down a lot; Yuuri was landing an excellent triple axel, much to the praise of Minako and the others. He was shaking with exhaustion, but at least he was smiling now.

            “Let’s get tomorrow out of the way,” Celestino said quietly, hoping his voice didn’t give away his own feeling of anxiety, “We’ll have a better idea then.”

            Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the stage is set and our players prepare for their upcoming showdown.
> 
> Hope you're still with me on this ^_^
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment - all welcome xxxx


	5. No More Deep Will I Endart Mine Eye, Than Social Media (and Katsudon) Gives Strength To Make It Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri spends time with his family after (what he thinks was) a disastrous training session.
> 
> Things can't get any worse...right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!
> 
> Thanks for sticking around :)
> 
> This chapter gives a bit more insight into Yuuri's character in this story. I hope you enjoy xxx

            After practise, Yuuri joined his parents outside the arena. It was early evening and Yuuri enjoyed the cool breeze that tickled his neck. As much as he loved skating, he always thought how ironic it was that a sport involving ice could make him sweat so much.

            Hiroko wrapped her arms around Yuuri’s waist and pulled him into a tight hug, fussing about how thin he was getting.

            “I’m a skater, mum,” Yuuri chuckled, “I’m supposed to be thin!”

            “What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t want my baby to be cuddly?”

            Yuuri smiled warmly at his mother. She really was a stereotypical Japanese mother – all fussing and cooing. But after his disastrous practise session, he relished the comfort in her words. And her cuddles.

            Toshiya chuckled behind her. “He’s right, honey. I’m not sure the world is ready for a cuddly skater. So long as he’s healthy, that’s what’s important.”

            Yuuri smiled over his mother’s head at his father. Japanese men were not known to express their feelings well, but that might as well have just been _I love you so much, my son, and I want you to be happy_ , and Yuuri felt his heart get a little lighter.

            His big sister, Mari, stood a little apart from the rest of them, smirking to herself. A cigarette hung loosely to her bottom lip, still not lit. Sometimes Yuuri wondered if she actually preferred the feel of the cigarette rather than the taste. But it never took her long to pull her lighter from her pocket and spark up.

            “How you feeling, kid?” Mari asked as she protected the flame from the lighter from the breeze with a cupped hand.

            “Um – okay, I guess. Guess I could have controlled my speed on my rotations - ”

            “No,” she interrupted, “Not about your skating.”

            Yuuri groaned and scratched the back of his head. He didn’t like talking about his feelings, and Mari knew that. So why she kept insisting on badgering him, he didn’t know. Sisterly affection didn’t seem to cover it.

            He was about to open his mouth and lie that he was fine, when his stomach let out an angry growl. Mari smirked again.

            A laugh from the arena entrance made Yuuri glance up.

            “Man! We heard that from all the way over here!”

            Yuuri tried to make himself laugh, but his insides knotted again. Why did he get so embarrassed about every little thing about his entire existence??

            A thick-set Japanese man with narrow, piercing eyes and broad grin was walking over to them. Next to him was a petite Japanese woman with auburn hair and a gentle smile.

            Takeshi Nishigori and his wife Yuuko. Yuuri’s oldest friends. He had learned how to skate along side them when he was five years old. They had grown up together, on and off the ice. He had been Takeshi’s best man at their wedding a couple of years ago (even though Yuuko had joked that it was only because he wouldn’t be her Maid of Honour!) and now they had joined Team Capulet as physiotherapists.

            Well, that was the official line. But Yuuri knew the truth; they had joined so they could keep an eye on him and his stupid anxiety. Just like his mum and dad, just like Mari and Minako.

            It was both reassuring and suffocating at the same time.

            Yuuko gave her husband an affectionate dig in his ribs with her elbow, giggling.

            “Leave him along, Taka!” Yuuri still thought it was cute the way Takeshi blushed at the sound of his wife’s nickname for him. He might have looked like a karate expert, but Takeshi Nishigori was a big softie (which was a family secret!). “Hey, Yuuri! That was an amazing practise – you’re really landing those triple toe loops now!” Yuuko beamed at her best friend, and Yuuri couldn’t help but smile back; she wasn’t his best friend for nothing.

            “So, you hungry?” she continued, knowing that Yuuri was starting to get sheepish again, “Taka and I found this _amazing_ restaurant yesterday! It’s called “Sakura Delights” and they make your favourite – Katsudon!”

            Yuuri’s stomach rumbled again, as if pleading with its owner for pork cutlets and rice. Everyone laughed again, and before Yuuri realised what was happening, Takeshi had wrapped his arm around his shoulders to nudge him in the direction of the restaurant.

            “I – I – I’m not sure I should… I mean – m-my diet…” but his protests fell on deaf ears. He had struggled with his weight ever since his childhood (the silvery stretchmarks on his stomach and thighs were testament to that), and he had been so careful for months to keep his body in regulation condition. Even denying himself his favourite comfort food. The dish that reminded him of home; of rainy days when all he could do was eat with his puppy, Vicchan, and cuddle with his mum; of when they celebrated every birthday and every time he won an award or medal in local competitions; of his sister’s arms around him the day he came home for a visit from university to the news Vicchan had had an accident and –

            Yuuri swallowed a hard lump in his throat. Damn it, it had been over a year since he lost his poodle. Why did it still hurt so much to think about him?

            Thankfully, no one seemed to notice his slumped shoulders, so he took a deep breath and forced himself to join in the conversation as they walked together. Perhaps one bowl of Katsudon wouldn’t do any harm. After all, he could always burn it off with a run afterwards. He liked running; just focusing on his breathing and the rhythm of his heart, his earphones blasting music to shut out the rest of the world.

            “It won’t be as good as mum’s,” he said flatly, which earned him another squeeze around the middle from Hiroko.

***

            Yuuri sat back in the booth and groaned. He patted his stomach, which felt like it had ballooned in the last hour. _One bowl of Katsudon,_ he remembered promising himself.

            But that had led to another one. And another one. Before he realised what he was doing, he had gone through five bowls of pork, egg and rice until his stomach felt like it was going to explode and he silently thanked God that he was still wearing his training gear. He’d forgotten just how _good_ Katsudon was! And, boy, his stomach sure did have a way of controlling his brain sometimes!

            His parents simply smiled, clearly pleased that their son was eating something wholesome, rather than protein bars and slimming shakes. Mari made a motion to prod him in his belly, making him whine, which in turn made her smirk. She used to do that when they were little – poke him in the belly until he whined like a piglet. And then the cow just had to go and tell Yurio the story! Now the Russian kid called him “little piggy” every chance he got!

            “Feel better now?” Yuuko asked warmly, her mouth still half-full. Who needs table manners when you’re with family, right?

            Yuuri simply nodded, afraid to open his mouth. He was so full, he didn’t know whether he was going to belch or be sick, so better safe than sorry.

            Hiroko sighed affectionately. “I just hope you find a woman who’ll make you Katsudon just as well as I do.”

            Yuuri’s eyes flew wide. He nearly fell out of the booth in shock.

            “W-wh-what?!”

            Either his mum hadn’t noticed the blood drain from his face, or she just ignored it, he couldn’t tell. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. You need a wife who can cook and take care of you just as well as I can. I wouldn’t be a very good mother if I didn’t think about these things.”

            Yuuri really did think he was going to throw up now.

            “Um – err…” his brain couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

            His dad glanced at him over the brim of his glasses, a smile playing with the corners of his mouth. “We’re not getting any younger, you know, son. Your mother’s ready to be a grandmother.”

            Yuuri felt panic grab his lungs. _Wife? Children? What the hell?!_

“You-you don’t need me for any of that!” he felt the words tumble out his mouth, faster and a lot higher than he had hoped for, “Mari - ”

            “Has made her position on sprogs perfectly clear!” his sister glowered at him. “No thank you! Nappies, no sleep, saving for college, no life! Hah!”

            “Oh, I don’t know,” Yuuko said dreamily, absentmindedly playing with her chopsticks, “All those cuddles, lullabies, watching something so tiny grow into an awesome person…”

            Takeshi seemed to share her sentiment, judging by the way he pulled her close to plant a soft kiss on her forehead.

            “One day, babe. One day.” He whispered, which earned him a big smile and an even bigger kiss from his wife.

            Yuuri felt the panic subside a little as he watched his friends act so…mushy. Yuuko had told him years ago that she wanted a big family. Two, maybe three kids. How she was going to teach them how to skate and she was going to start her own family skating team.

            Granted, they were fifteen when she’d said that last part, but he still felt she was somehow made to be a mother. And a great one, to boot.

            But him? Be a father? A husband??

            And now the panic had a chokehold on his lungs again.

            “I-I…I’ve got my career to worry about right now, mum. I’m in no rush to settle down.” He really hoped that would be the end of the matter, but he knew he wasn’t that lucky.

            “Don’t you have to start dating before you think about settling down?” Mari teased, smiling as her brother’s face flushed pink.

            “I’ve dated!” he couldn’t believe how petulant that sounded.

            Mari snorted. “Going to the movies with _one_ girl in high school does not count as “dated”! Jeez, by the time I was your age - ”

            “I don’t need to know!” Yuuri pleaded. He wondered if he could still put his hands over his ears at his age. Probably not.

            “Maybe the problem isn’t how many dates he’s had, but who he’s had them with.” Takeshi said, a sly smile stretching his lips to one side.

            Yuuri felt his face burn.

            “Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?”

            “Oh, come on, kid! You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it!”

            “About what?”

            “That you might be ga- _oomph!_ ” Takeshi choked on that last word, Yuuko’s elbow firmly lodged in his ribs again.

            “Takeshi Nishigori!” Yuuko glared, and her husband blinked widely at her. It was never a good sign when she used his full name. “That is _not_ any of your business! And it certainly isn’t something to tease him about!”

            “I wasn’t!” he said incredulously. “I’m just saying - ” But he shut up when Yuuko glared at him again, the contents of his empty bowl suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room.

            “Yuuri,” Hiroko said gently, drawing his wide, unblinking eyes to her, “Are you…you know…?”

            Yuuri couldn’t breathe. He was sweating. His hands were shaking.

            Why was this suddenly being sprung on him? Why was it suddenly so important to ask him about this now? He had too much to think about – too much at stake!

            “Yuuri?” Toshiya reached his hand over the table, but Yuuri flinched away from his father’s touch.

            “I gotta go!”

            And he scrambled out of the booth, almost tripping over his own feet as he ran – no, _fled!_ – out of the restaurant, down the street, as far away from his family as he could get. He kept running, blindly turning corner after corner, bumping into passers-by and nearly getting himself knocked over at least three times, until he came to a small park.

            It was more of a large courtyard than a park, enclosed by high walls and a wrought-iron gate. Several old-fashioned streetlamps soaked the area in a golden glow in the early twilight. A single bench was the only furniture, under a streetlamp.

            Panting, Yuuri flopped on to the bench and waited for his heart to slow. It took longer than normal.

            He closed his eyes and tried counting, slowly, focusing on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. He placed his hand on his chest as he breathed, as if pressing down on his heart would somehow force it to slow down.

            After about ten minutes, he felt steady enough to open his eyes and sit up a little bit. He looked around nervously. Thankfully, the yard was secluded, and it didn’t look like anyone had followed him from the restaurant.

            Not that he even knew where he was himself. This place didn’t look like a regular tourist spot; he had no idea where in Verona he was. For all he knew, he wasn’t even in the city anymore.

            ‘Would that be so bad?’ he thought to himself. Sighing heavily, he did the one thing that always made him relax.

            He pulled his phone and earphones out of his pocket. Once his “CALM” playlist began, he scrolled through the apps onscreen until he found the link to a website. He quickly glanced around again, making sure no one was going to jump out at him, before tapping the link with his thumb.

            His screen flashed white for a second as the site loaded, and Yuuri smiled to himself as a photo appeared. He recognised it instantly; it had been taken at last year’s Grand Prix Final. His eyes focused on the centre of the photo – on the bright blue crown of roses resting on waist-length starlight-silver hair. How the roses didn’t hold a candle to the brilliant blue eyes that sparkled underneath them.

            No one – not even his best friend – knew that Yuuri Katsuki, the latest addition to Team Capulet, was the world’s biggest Victor Nikiforov fan.

            Well, fan was the wrong word. In Japan, there was a word for people (well, teenage girls) like him: Otaku. Fangirl – or fanboy, in his case. Obsessed. Crazy. They were probably better words to describe himself.

            It had all started years ago – eighteen, there was no point in lying to himself – of course he knew how long it had been since he first saw Victor Nikiforov on tv. He had been blown away by the boy’s grace on the ice, by how confident and happy he looked. It made Yuuri want to feel the same way. He wanted to be just like the sparkly, smiling boy onscreen.

            At first, he had just watched Victor on tv, watching him progress through all local, national and international competitions almost effortlessly. But that soon wasn’t enough. So he then started reading articles online that focused on his routines and programs, so that he could copy his moves on the ice. Then he started buying magazines just to cut out interviews and keep them in a shoebox under his bed, so that he could read them in bed after saying goodnight to his mum. Then he found a fan site where people swapped stories about Victor; about his cute poodle called Makkachin, and how his birthday was on Christmas Day (something which made Yuuri wonder how his family celebrated the day; was it split in two, with Victor’s birthday celebrated first? Did that mean double the number of presents? And which did the boy prefer, his birthday or Christmas?).

            Before he had realised, he was in too deep. His bed was almost off the floor, he had so many boxes with photos, cuttings and merchandise that he’d ordered online underneath it. The inside of his wardrobe was plastered with posters. He even had a separate memory card in his phone, filled with pictures from photoshoots and previous competitions.

            He didn’t really understand why, but, somehow, listening to music while looking at pictures of his idol – the man he so wanted to be like – made him feel calmer. Like he was escaping into a little “Victor bubble” and it made him feel safe.

            Of course, once Victor had signed up for Montague Corp, he really had to make sure he kept a lid on his craziness. His friends at the rink in Hasetsu were avid Team Capulet fans, and had torn down posters of Victor in the locker room on the day he’d signed his contract. And now he was skating for Team Capulet, he had to be even more careful. He physically shuddered at the thought of what Yurio would do to him if he saw him now, re-reading Victor’s statistics from the previous year (as if he didn’t already know them off by heart).

            He tapped off the website to check his social media profile, and immediately wished he hadn’t. His newsfeed was filled with the usual trash talk between Team Capulet and Montague Corp – memes that showed penguins falling off an iceberg, vague threats between competitors, and not-so-vague comments from fans on both sides. It looked like some fans were getting personal about some skaters, making lewd comments about their personal lives, which of course led to an online battle between faceless morons.

            Yuuri was just about to close the page when a notification pinged up. His eyes shone when he read the tagline:

            “Victor Nikiforov lands in Verona.”

            He hurriedly tapped the notification, hoping for a photo of his idol to pop up, but, much to his disappointment, it was only a short tweet from Montague Corp’s official PR team, stating that the World Champion had finally arrived at their hotel and would be making his official appearance at tomorrow’s press conference.

            Excitement bubbled up inside of Yuuri. He was actually going to see Victor Nikiforov in person tomorrow. He was going to be in the same room as him. _He was going to skate on the same ice as him!_

            ‘Provided you don’t screw up on day one.’ That small, vicious voice in his head sneered, making the excitement shift to dread. He logged out and closed the weblinks on his screen and closed his eyes, letting the music in his ears wash over him.

            He was brought out of his daydreaming by the sound of whispering and giggling, not too far from him. He opened his eyes, frowning. Standing a few feet from him was a group of girls – teenagers, judging by their thick make up and school uniforms. They were huddled together, grinning and whispering excitedly amongst themselves.

            They were staring at him.

            He caught a glimpse of a “Team Capulet” sticker on one of their backpacks and felt the knot in his stomach release a tiny bit. So they were skating fans, he realised with a sigh of relief, they weren’t gawping at a stressed-out mess of a man.

            Not sure what to do, he waved weakly at them, a watery smile plastered on his face.

            This made them giggle even louder before they ran away, talking in shrill tones and super-fast Italian. Yuuri blinked hard, flustered.

            ‘Is it any wonder I’ve never had a girlfriend?’ he thought to himself, bewildered, ‘girls are…weird!’

            His thoughts were drawn back to the throwaway comment that Takeshi had made in the restaurant. He frowned to himself.

            It was true; he’d never had a proper girlfriend – hell, he’d only ever been on one date in his whole life, and that had been so awkward that he’d almost ran back home! – but he honestly couldn’t say that he’d ever had any feelings, romantic or otherwise, towards boys either, that he was aware of. Surely if he was gay, he would have known by now, right?

            He thought about the flamboyant member of Montague Corp, Christophe Giacometti. How he would flutter his eyelashes and pucker his glossy lips to any man who was brave enough to get close to him. How his costumes got more and more outrageous each season, further punctuated by his lewd movements on the ice. He couldn’t imagine ever acting like that – the mere thought of it made him squirm! So surely that meant he wasn’t gay, right?

            Then he thought about his teammate, Sara Crispino. Sure, she was a very pretty girl, with long black hair and shiny purple eyes. And she was funny and sweet. Yuuri supposed she had a long list of admirers; none of them were ever allowed close to her, thanks to her overprotective brother, Michele, though. But if he was straight, wouldn’t Yuuri feel something when he spent time with Sara?

            He sighed, melancholy taking hold. Why did real life have to be so complicated? It was so much easier on the ice.

            All he’d ever cared about was skating. It was the only thing he’d ever associated with love. Had that been the wrong thing to do? Should he have dated more when he was younger, “experimented” as he’d heard someone say once? Was it really so weird to still be single at twenty-three?

            Yuuri sighed sadly. He wished that his family had never brought this up, innocently as they did. It made him question his choices, made him feel like he’d let them down.

            _Buzz buzz._

Yuuri glanced down at his phone, at the text message onscreen. It was from Sara:

            “Mikey’s found a really cool club. We’re all going tonight – NO EXCEPTIONS :D xxx”

            Yuuri grimaced. He’d never really been into clubbing – he always made a fool out of himself if he drank too much, and he was too self-conscious amongst crowds of dancing, sweating people – and given that the press conference was the next day, he wasn’t so sure showing up with a hangover would give the best impression for his debut.

            Then again, he thought, maybe this would help him get his thoughts straight. Maybe he needed a night to not think about skating, about his family, about his future.

            He nodded to himself determinedly as he typed his reply:

            “Count me in :)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo can you see where I'm going with this?? ^_^
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment - I love them all and will always reply xxx


	6. Nay, Gentle Victor, We Must Have You Dance!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor, Chris and Georgi prepare for their big lads' night out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna make good use of the "slow build" tag for the next couple of chapters, so I hope you're comfy :P

            Victor quickly glanced at the mirror, fixing his long fringe so that it fell just right. He was still getting used to his new hairstyle; it was so much easier to manage, and he didn’t take so long to get ready as he used to, but he couldn’t help fussing over his fringe, wanting it to lie perfectly over his left eye without poking him.

            “Oh, really, Victor!” Chris pouted over his shoulder, trying to apply his mascara, “You weren’t this much of a mirror-hog when your hair was long!”

            Victor laughed and moved away from the mirror, giving his friend full access. He went over to the small table under the window and poured another drink; Chris had insisted on his hotel room being “headquarters”, so Victor and the other Russian man, a strapping guy with sharp cheekbones and penetrating eyes called Georgi Popovich, had been forced to get ready there.

            Victor had teased Chris, calling him a schoolgirl; three grown men, getting dressed and drinking cheap vodka in a hotel room before going out on the town…it was like something out of a cheesy musical!

            Chris had just winked. “What can I say? Being surrounded by gorgeous men really gets me into a party mood!”

            But Georgi was the total opposite of Chris; he had practically drunk a whole bottle of vodka by himself as he sat sullenly on the bed, his eyes constantly shining with unshed tears.

            Chris had given up, having called him a “party pooper” several times, and just ignored him as he continued to apply his makeup. Victor had tried to engage his teammate in conversation, but all he got out of him was the usual melodramatic drivel that he’d heard every other time Anya had dumped him, so he eventually gave up too, opting to drink a little more.

            ‘Not too much,’ he thought to himself, ‘I’m not going to make a fool of myself.’

            He thought they were going to make quite an impression tonight; three young, handsome men, all athletic and lithe with perfect hair and designer clothes. Chris was wearing a fishnet top and skin-tight red leather trousers, looking like something out of either a music video from the eighties, or a high-end porno, Victor couldn’t quite work out which one, though he had a fair idea which one Chris would prefer. Georgi wore a deep purple silk shirt that billowed slightly as he moved, giving his body a fluid-like motion. And Victor was wearing a deep-blue, long-sleeved shirt that he knew accentuated his eyes, the snug fit revealing his toned physique. The shirt had a metallic sheen to it, which reflected the light perfectly.

            “If I don’t pull tonight, I think I’ll just give up and join a monastery!” Chris announced dramatically as he finally finished his makeup, winking at his own reflection.

            Victor laughed out loud. “I doubt there’s a monastery in the world that would take you in, Chris! I mean, you in a place where you’re surrounded by men every hour of every day? There aren’t enough prayers to save your soul!”

            Chris stuck his tongue out at Victor playfully. “Oh well, if I’m going to hell, I might as well make it worth my while.”

            Georgi made a noise that sounded like a cross between a squashed frog and a deflating balloon, staring out of the window.

            Victor walked over and huffed. From the window he could see the two female members of Montague Corp - a feisty red-head called Mila and a sultry brunette called Anya - walking down the street. Both were linking arms with two men, who seemed to look very pleased with themselves.

            Victor glanced over at Georgi, eyebrow raised. He watched the dark-haired Russian knock back a full glass of vodka and hiss as the alcohol burned his throat.

            “Do you think they’re going to the same club as us?” Georgi asked, his bottom lip wobbling.

            “Who cares?” Chris said, exasperated, “This is supposed to be a boys’ night out! Time to get your game face on, Popovich! I’m not having you letting the team down.”

            Victor smiled as he watched Chris wrap an arm round Georgi’s shoulders, giving them a rough squeeze. It seemed to work a little bit, as Georgi’s lips managed to form a weird line that could pass as a smile. Just.

            Chris grinned, flashing perfect teeth and tugged both men by the wrist out the door, eager to get to the club.

            As they walked down the street, Victor gazed around thoughtfully. He could see why Verona was seen as a city of romance; the soft golden glow of the streetlights gave off an otherworldly atmosphere, like he could easily step into the pages of an epic love story and get lost there.

            But, judging by the wicked grin on Chris’ face as they approached the club, this was not going to be a night for romance.

            “Right boys! Who’s ready to cause a scandal?” Chris declared, linking his arms with Georgi and Victor.

            Victor sniggered. “Isn’t causing a scandal just an ordinary day on the ice for you?”

            Chris winked. “What I’ve got in mind doesn’t involve ice. Well…maybe not at first!”

            Victor rolled his eyes and laughed again. “I swear you have more police records for public indecency than I have medals!”

            “Proving that you clearly need to inject some fun into your life, _mon ami_.”

            “Isn’t being brave enough to be seen with you fun enough?” Victor teased.

            Chris shook his head, smiling affectionately. “I’m serious, Victor. When was the last time you went on a date? Or just had a wild night with someone whose face you never forget, but whose name you’ll never recall? I’m sure there has been a line of admirers just dying to get a hold of your long…hair!” he wiggled his eyebrows at that last part.

            Victor stiffened a little for a moment but plastered on his famous dazzling smile; all teeth, no warmth. “I can’t afford such distractions, Chris. Gold medals aren’t won on wild nights, you know.”

            Georgi stumbled, the vodka clearly having a stronger effect on him than the others. “I pity you, Ni-nikiforov,” he slurred, “You don’t know what it’s like to be in love.”

            Victor barked a harsh laugh. “If you’re an advertisement for what being in love looks like, you’re welcome to it! I’ll stick to winning gold medals, thanks.”

            They finally arrived outside the club, a pounding bassline vibrating from behind a closed black door. A red neon sign above the door read “INSATIABLE” and Victor saw Chris’ eyes light up just from the name.

            A gorgeous young man with tanned skin and oiled-back blonde hair stood by the door, dressed in a cheap tuxedo. He grinned a well-rehearsed smile at the three men.

            “Buonasera signori! Welcome to “Insatiable”. You have come on the best night.” His voice slid down Victor’s back like oil; thick and uncomfortable.

            Chris, on the other hand, seemed to like what he saw. “Is that because you’re here?” he purred, dropping his arms from his teammates to stand directly in front of the doorman. He dipped his hip, just a little, keeping his hands at his sides, grinning as he saw doorman’s eyes dilate.

            The blonde Italian slaked his eyes up and down Chris and his grin stretched, making the corners of his eyes pinch. “No…though it has just improved a great deal.”

            “So what’s so special about tonight?” Georgi asked, swaying a little. The doorman blinked and his smile faded a little, as if he was suddenly realising that Chris wasn’t the only person there. Victor smirked – looked like Chris was going to get his wish!

            The doorman swept his hand behind him, gesturing at a large box by the door. There were dozens of masks; brightly coloured plastic masks, soft fabric ones that only covered a person’s eyes, ones that covered the whole face, others that stopped at the cheekbones.

            “Tonight is masquerade!” the doorman said proudly, his greasy smile back in place.

            Chris giggled excitedly and snatched up a red half-mask that resembled a butterfly. Georgi shrugged and pulled out a black mask that looked like something a highwayman would wear.

            Victor, however, took a step back. Something didn’t feel right to him. Maybe it was the dark look in the doorman’s eyes as he stared at him. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t really wanted to come here in the first place.

            Chris sensed his apprehension. “Victor?”

            Victor shook his head, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I don’t know, Chris…”

            Chris pulled his mask up to look in his friend’s eyes. “Relax. It’s a nightclub, not a brothel. Besides, masquerade’s perfect for you – no one will recognise you, which means we can dance the night away knowing you won’t be swamped by your fans!”

            “And it means if any Team Capulet assholes are around, they won’t bother us.” Georgi added; it was probably the most sober thought he was going to have all night.

            Victor released the breath he was holding and settled for a silver half-mask that vaguely resembled a fox. He pushed his fringe over the mask and set his mouth into a determined line.

            “How do I look?” he asked, trying to sound confident, sweeping his hands out to his sides, palms up, in a breezy fashion.

            ‘Just pretend you’re on the ice,’ he told himself, ‘pretend this is your costume and everything will be fine.’

            Hopefully.

            Chris whistled at him. He smirked, relaxing just a little as the doorman held the door for them, beckoning them inside. The pounding beat threatened to swallow him whole as he stepped into the dimly lit club, strobe lights cutting colours across his vision.

            ‘How bad can it be?’ he thought to himself, feeling himself being dragged to the dancefloor by his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Victor! If only you knew what awaits you in that club...
> 
> Well, I know...but I'm not going to tell you hahaha XD
> 
> Hope you're still here for this. Feel free to comment - I've loved the lovely comments so far and will always reply <3


	7. I Will Make Thee Think Thy Piglet A Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inside the club, Yuuri Katsuki is having the night from hell!  
> If only someone would rescue him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got too excited! I had to post the next chapter!! (*≧▽≦)
> 
> I'm not sure how long I can keep up the bi-weekly updates, though ●﹏● I'm catching up with myself, and the next few chapters I need to write are going to be quite technical (not to mention really long!), so I don't want to rush them (and if that's not a spoiler alert, then I don't know what is XD)
> 
> But, as long as you're still with me, I'll see what I can do <3

            Yuuri had probably never been more terrified in his whole life! And given he spent a good portion of every day a nervous wreck, that was saying something!

            ‘If Hell has a brothel,’ he thought, swallowing thickly, ‘I’ll bet it looks like this!’

            The nightclub was a sea of writhing, twisting bodies, glistening with sweat under strobe lights and lasers, limbs indistinguishable through the smoke effects. And the fact that every single face was covered with a mask made Yuuri feel like he really, _really_ shouldn’t be here. It seemed unreal…sordid.

            He had arrived with Sara and Michele, Yuuko and Takeshi and Yurio. Yet somehow, he was now alone, standing in a corner, praying to god that he didn’t look as freaked out as he felt.

            He rubbed at his face, the stiff gold half-mask that Sara had chosen for him (apparently it brought out the gold flecks in his eyes) felt uncomfortable next to his clammy skin. He’d had to put his glasses in his jeans’ pocket so he could put the mask on. Thankfully he wasn’t totally short-sighted, he could still make out the gyrating shapes in the dimly-lit club and could see the way everyone’s eyes shone out from behind masks with a dark fire, if he squinted. Not that he wanted to! So he focused on the glass in his hand instead.

            He had been sitting in a booth set apart from the dancefloor with the others, but things had quickly gone downhill for Yuuri. Firstly, a tanned lad in a tight white t shirt had asked Sara for a dance. Sara had accepted with a flirty grin, only for the boy to be frightened away by Michele. This, of course, led to a screaming match between the siblings before Sara had stormed off, followed by an irate Michele. Yuuri’s last sighting of Sara was at the edge of the dancefloor, deliberately grabbing the white-t-shirt-boy by the wrist and pulling him deeper into the crowd.

            Then Minako had arrived, much to everyone’s surprise. But she hadn’t come to let her hair down, for a change: she yanked Yurio up out of the booth by the scruff of his leopard-print hoodie and pushed him towards the exit.

            “You’re fifteen!” Yuuri had heard her screech. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

            “I don’t know – maybe not everyone’s a stuck-up old witch like you!” Yurio had spat from behind his tiger mask.

            Yuuri had almost forgotten how strong Minako was, until he saw her pick the teenager up and swing him over her shoulder! She stomped to the exit, Yurio kicking and screaming so loud, he could be heard over the thumping music.

            Just when he had thought things couldn’t get any worse, Yuuri had glanced over at Yuuko and Takeshi. A particularly steamy song had started to play and, judging by the heated look between the couple, it must have been a personal favourite. Suddenly it was like Yuuri didn’t exist – Yuuko had pulled her husband by the collar until he was practically lying on top of her, a wicked grin on her lips as they began to make out like a couple of schoolkids.

            Flushing bright red, Yuuri had stammered an excuse to go to the bar and had scurried away. Not that they probably heard him.

            ‘So much for a fun night out.’ He thought gloomily as he knocked back his drink. Maybe no one would notice if he just left.

            Compared to everyone else in the club, Yuuri thought he was the least noticeable in his faded jeans and black cotton shirt. “Smart/casual” Sara had said when they’d met up, but Yuuri felt more like “plain/invisible”. Not that he was particularly bothered about people looking at him – the less, the better! – but he had at least hoped for a fun night out with his new teammates.

            So he made his mind up and put his empty glass on the bar. He was going to go back to the hotel and text Sara later, feigning a headache for his early departure.

            That’s when he felt a hard stare on his back, almost like a poke between his shoulder blades. He turned around slowly. A slender, tall woman with short red hair and a green mask made of silk leaves was looking his way, a cheery smile pulling at her full lips as she swayed her hips to the music.

            He glanced around, making sure she was looking at him. That seemed to make her laugh as she waved her hand, beckoning him toward her. He shook his head quickly, remembering at the last second to smile politely, and turned to leave.

            He felt a hand land on his shoulder. The grip wasn’t too hard or forceful, just enough to make his head spin in the direction of the owner.

            It was the redhead. She was still smiling as she leaned in to talk (well, yell, thanks to the music) in his ear.

            “You looked lonely,” she said sweetly, “so I thought I’d say hi.”

            “H-Hi!” Yuuri shouted back, trying to keep his smile in place.

            “Do you want to dance?”

            “Oh! N-no thanks,” Yuuri spluttered, “I-I was just on my way out.”

            The redhead grinned at him and grabbed his wrist, already dragging him towards the dancefloor, as if she hadn’t heard him.

            “H-hey! I said - ”

            A girl in a white bikini and matching mask sashayed past them, carrying a tray of shot glasses, different coloured liquids in them. The redhead grabbed two glasses, offering one to Yuuri.

            “Loosen up a little, kid! You’ll live longer!” she beamed as she threw the shot down her neck, screwing her face up as she swallowed.

            He tried to give her his glass, but she shook her head, gesturing for him to drink it. Sighing, he did. The alcohol burned his throat and made him choke. The redhead cheered, like he’d won a race or something, before sliding a toned arm around his shoulders.

            “See?” she grinned, “Was that so bad?”

            Yuuri would have said something, but he was too busy coughing, the shot burning all the way down to his stomach. What the hell was that stuff?

            The girl’s smile softened a little as she stared at him. Yuuri noticed her eyes were a deep blue and were striking against the moss-green leaves of her mask. The strobe lights made her look like some kind of wood nymph from a storybook.

            Yuuri flinched. Was he drunk already, thinking up stuff like that??

            The wood nymph leaned in again, talking in his ear.

            “You know what the best thing is about masquerade?” she continued when he numbly shook his head, “You can be anyone that you want to be for the whole night, and no one will ever know it’s not really you!”

            Yuuri thought about that for a moment. She was right; no one in the club knew who he was, would probably never see him again, and with the gold mask no one would ever be able to recognise him if they did. Nobody here knew he was Yuuri Katsuki, the nervous wreck. Yuuri the skater. Yuuri from Japan.

            A slow smile spread on his face. If he could pretend to be someone else for tonight, there was only one person he wanted to be like.

            Victor Nikiforov.

            Something must have flashed in his eyes, because the redhead suddenly beamed and pulled Yuuri further into the crowd.

            Maybe the alcohol was finally taking effect. Maybe it was the idea that he could pretend to be the confident, perfect skating legend and no one would ever know it was a lie. Or maybe Yuuri had simply had enough of thinking. Either way, he undid the top button of his shirt and followed the girl to the dancefloor, allowing himself to be pulled amongst the mass of sweating dancers. The music seemed louder in the crowd and he let it wash over him. He felt his body react to the bassline the same way it did when he was on the ice; he swayed his hips and felt the muscles in his back bend to the rhythm, his eyes becoming heavy-lidded as he let go of his inhibitions.

            “There you go!” his new friend cheered.

            Yuuri grinned at her and pulled her into a spin, making her shriek with laughter. She surprised him, though, when she pulled him into a spin herself, showing a strength that her slender physique kept hidden.

            Yuuri laughed as they danced. He laughed as they drank more shots together. He laughed as other people around him smiled at him. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed this much! He wasn’t sure when, but he began to feel too hot under the strobe lights and thought it was a good idea to keep undoing the buttons of his shirt until it flapped against his ribs as he spun around – a sight that made his new friend shriek with laughter!

            ‘Being Victor Nikiforov is the best!’ he giggled to himself, feeling his cheeks burn under his mask. Oh, he was _so_ drunk!

            He was still laughing when someone grabbed his waist from behind. He glanced over his shoulder. A girl wearing a black lacey mask was wrapping her hands around his waist, pushing her hips against him in time to the music.

            “Hmm…I love the way you dance.” Her Italian accent filling his ear as she turned him around in her arms. Yuuri suddenly became very aware of the way she kept pressing up against him, sliding her hands from his waist up to his chest. He was also very aware that her hands were on his _bare_ chest and called himself an idiot for being so stupid earlier.

            “Umm…thanks?” he had no idea what to say. All he knew was that he was suddenly really uncomfortable with how close she was. He felt claustrophobic under the weight of her gaze, thick eyelashes fluttering up at him.

            “Do you dance like that in private, too?” she purred, and Yuuri felt heat blazing on his face. She was too close to him. Too close!

            He squirmed in her arms and tried to free his arms (when did she manage to pin them to his sides??) but she seemed to think it was funny, judging by her smirk. He looked around desperately, hoping the wood nymph would help him. But he couldn’t see her.

            Panic started clawing at his chest as she fluttered her eyelashes closed, tilting her face towards his. His eyes grew wide when he felt her breath ghost his cheeks.

            “Get off me!” he yelled, pushing the girl back with a lot more force than he’d originally intended. She lost her balance, her stiletto buckling under her as she fell to the floor.

            Yuuri froze. He made a move to help her up, to apologise, when a huge man with a snake tattoo covering his bulging bicep stepped in front of him. He yelled something at him in Italian; Yuuri was pretty sure it wasn’t something repeatable.

            The man grabbed his arm as he continued to yell in his face. Yuuri felt the skin on his arm twist and sting as the man dug his fingers in harder.

            “It-it was an accident!” he cried out. But the huge man either didn’t understand him or didn’t care.

            The girl was shouting at the man in Italian, a dark scowl on her face. But Yuuri’s heart sank when he saw that the glare was pointed at him rather than the other man. He gulped nervously, his heart pounding in his chest.

            “Get him, Mario!” she hissed.

            The huge man – Mario – sneered at Yuuri and began to draw his enormous fist backwards. Yuuri stiffened, trembling.

            Suddenly, a tall man stood between Yuuri and Mario, a bottle of champagne in one hand. His hair was grey and short, but Yuuri thought he looked young, which confused him. The man had his back to Yuuri, so all he could really see was broad shoulders and arms under a blue shirt, back perfectly straight.

            “Compliments of the DJ,” a thick accent smiled under a silver mask, handing the bottle to the gawping girl. She took it with shaking hands and glanced between Mario, Yuuri and the mystery man, as though she wasn’t sure what she wanted.

            The grey-haired man tilted his head slightly, making his hair fall in front of his left eye. “Should I give it back?” he asked, holding his hand out.

            The girl quickly shook her head and pulled Mario away, message understood: take the champagne and leave.

            Yuuri saw his chance and bolted for the exit, pushing through the crowd. When he reached the door, he took one last look over his shoulder, making sure Mario or anyone else wasn’t following him.

            The last thing he saw before he ran outside was the grey-haired man staring at him, large eyes shining out from under his silver mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!
> 
> Please let me know what you think!!
> 
> <3<3


	8. Did my heart…what’s that ‘L’ word again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Victor thought his night out with Chris and Georgi was a total bust, he spots someone in the club...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The club scene from Victor's POV.
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> ヽ(＾Д＾)ﾉ

            Victor’s evening had certainly taken an unexpected turn.

            He should have guessed that he was going to ultimately wind up on his own. Chris had stayed with him and Georgi for the length of one song and one round of shots before he had glided his way through the crowd in the direction of the doorman, licking the gloss on his lips.

            ‘This has got to be a new speed record for Chris,’ Victor had mused, smirking at the way the doorman’s eyes grew wide as his friend approached him, his hips swaying in perfect sync with the bassline. Chris was like a wolf on the dancefloor, stalking his prey. And by the looks of it, this particular bunny rabbit wasn’t too worried about getting eaten!

            So Victor had resigned himself to be Georgi’s babysitter. He had stood dutifully next to his teammate, pretending to listen to his drunken warblings as the other Russian man downed shot after shot until he was practically propped up against the bar.

            Then Georgi had spotted Anya across the dancefloor, her arms wrapped around a broad-shouldered man in a white mask. She’d had the biggest smile on her face, and Victor had noticed how her eyes kept coming in their direction.

            ‘Oh, great,’ he had thought grimly, ‘She knows he’s here.’

            Sure enough, Anya had upped her game, pushing her full figure up against her dancing partner’s chest, all the while keeping her eyes on Georgi’s outraged face.

            Victor had tried to pull Georgi away, telling him to ignore her – this is what she always did after she broke up with him, she loved how jealous he was – but it had fallen on deaf ears. Georgi had yanked his arm out of Victor’s grip and pushed into the crowd, yelling Anya’s name.

            Victor had sighed deeply and was just about to go after him when his eyes landed on his other teammate, Mila. She had just approached a small young man in a gold mask.

            The first thing Victor had noticed about the man was his clothes; jeans and a simple black shirt. Conservative. Practical. It certainly set him apart from the scantily-clad attention seekers that filled up the club.

            The man’s hair was thick and black, all messed up from the way he kept nervously running his hand through it as Mila talked to him. Victor wondered how soft it felt.

            His eyes went wide. ‘Where did _that_ thought come from?!” he asked himself. He quickly put his empty glass on the bar; maybe he’d had more to drink than he’d realised.

            He didn’t take his eyes off Mila and the man as she pulled him onto the dancefloor. Victor could see his face was pale and scared, even under that gold mask. Victor smirked; Mila was one of the more athletic members of Montague Corp – the poor guy had no idea what was instore for him!

            Then something amazing had happened.

            Mila had whispered something in the man’s ear and something had changed in his face. His lips had slowly turned upwards into a bright smile, his dark eyes shining excitedly, the tension in his slender shoulders disappearing.

            It was magnificent to watch.

            Then the man had undone the top button of his shirt, exposing his pale collarbone to the strobe lights, and he had pulled Mila into an expertly-executed spin. Victor had become enthralled; judging by the way the man swayed in time with the music, he had clearly had some professional dance training – he owned the dancefloor! And he certainly held his own against Mila, who Victor had seen cheer and laugh as her new friend grew more confident with every drink.

            Victor had been unable to stop staring from across the packed club, taking in the flushed colour on the man’s face as he laughed, the way his biceps bunched under the cotton of his shirt, how the faded denim cupped his ass perfectly…

            Victor had been glad it was dark – he was pretty sure he was blushing!

            And the blush only intensified as the man began to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, one at a time until, even from where he was standing, Victor could see the slight definition of his muscular stomach and chest; he was a little soft around the middle, so there was still some work to be done, but Victor liked what he saw.

            _Wait a minute. What? What the hell am I doing?! I don’t perv on guys in clubs – I’m not Chris!_

_Ah, but you’re not perving on guys – just this one!_

Victor shook his head, laughing at his own internal conversation.   

Then the show turned ugly; literally. Victor had seen the girl approach the man from behind, her tongue flicking over her too-plump lips as she had grabbed his waist. Victor couldn’t figure out why, but he hadn’t liked the way she had put her hands on him like that.

            He had also seen how the man’s mood quickly changed, his carefree smile vanishing. Even in the dim lights, Victor had seen the anxious shine in the man’s eyes. He had moved without thinking, grabbing a bottle of champagne from the bar – whether anyone had seen him take it without paying was of little concern at that moment – and had begun to push through the sea of bodies when the man had pushed the girl away, sending her to floor.

            The man had stood there, looking shaken. He clearly hadn’t meant to push her that hard. But Victor felt a cold hand claw at his chest as he saw what he could only describe as a behemoth appear out of nowhere to grab the man’s arm and twist it painfully.

            “It-it was an accident!” Victor had heard the man cry out. His voice was high and shaky; it made something in Victor’s chest stir – a primal instinct to protect him.

            Just as the monster of a guy – Victor had thought the little girl called him “Mario” – had been ready to punch the smaller man, Victor had effortlessly placed himself between the two of them. He didn’t know what possessed him to do it, or even if it would work, but years of charming paparazzi and sponsor reps had given Victor a level of charm and charisma that made him feel he could sell ice to eskimos.

            Or in this case, alcohol to a couple of drunks.

            “Compliments of the DJ!” he had beamed at Mario, flashing his perfect teeth in his world-famous, thousand-watt smile. He presented the bottle to the girl like he was handing her a new-born baby. He hadn’t been able to see the smaller man behind him, but he still made sure he was squarely in front of Mario, keeping his back straight.

            The girl had quickly glanced from the bottle to Victor’s face to Mario to the mystery man, wringing her fingers. Victor had sensed that she was torn between the alcohol and her revenge for being scorned. He knew he had to further play his hand.

            “Should I give it back?” he had asked sweetly, tilting his head to one side. He had even held his hand out to take the bottle. He had kept his tone light, but his implication had been clear: you really need to take the bottle and go.

            Thankfully the girl had taken the hint and had dragged her thug away from Victor, disappearing amongst the crowd.

            Victor had released a breath he hadn’t even realising he was holding and had turned to check if the man was okay. But he wasn’t behind him. He was gone.

            Victor’s head turned sharply in all directions, eyes searching for a glimpse of black hair or gold mask. He saw him at the exit, just in time. As the man had ducked out of the door, he had turned around to glance over his shoulder, probably to check that he wasn’t being followed. Victor had felt his eyes lock with his, for the briefest of moments, before he ran out into the night.

            It had been long enough to pull Victor to the door and out of the suffocating club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you enjoying the slow build?? ;)
> 
> Hope you're loving this as much as I am <3<3


	9. For I Ne’er Saw True Beauty Til This Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after the almost-fight with Mario?
> 
> Time to find out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for not posting on Thursday, as I usually do. I travelled all the way down to London to be part of the audience for a pre-record of BBC's "Strictly Come Dancing"...but when we got there, we were turned away because my passport had my maiden name on it and my ticket had my married name on it!!   
> (ノ﹏ヽ)  
> A 7-hour round trip for nothing! Bet this NEVER happened to Victor or Yuuri!!
> 
> Anyway, rant over....ENJOY XXX

            Yuuri drew a loud, shaky breath as soon as he felt the cold night air hit his face. He yanked his gold mask off and tossed it to the ground; it felt like it was suffocating him. He’d never considered claustrophobia to be one of his anxiety triggers (though, in his defence, there were a lot of them!) but tonight, in that club, he felt like he was drowning. To be alone in the courtyard, no strobe lights in his eyes or pulsing music in his ears, was refreshing.

            The courtyard outside the club was secluded, tucked away from the main street. Yuuri found that comforting; he hadn’t really wanted to run from one crowded place to another, and this was a good place to catch his breath before he headed back to his hotel. His eyes landed on a small, crumbled part of an old wall (perhaps from part of the original building where the club now resided) and he sank down, sighing as he sat. He lowered his head until he could feel his knees on his clammy forehead, the damp clumps of his hair falling forward. He shivered and suddenly remembered his unbuttoned shirt. Flushing bright pink, he quickly redid the buttons, groaning miserably.

            ‘So much for not making a fool of yourself!’ he thought bitterly.

            “Are you alright?”

            Yuuri sat bolt upright, eyes wide.

            It was the grey-haired man. Only, Yuuri realised with a gasp, his hair wasn’t grey – it was silver, bright and captivating, like starlight on a midsummer’s night. It fell over the silver mask on the man’s face, almost covering his left eye. Yuuri could see, even in the dim light outside, that those eyes behind the mask (which he realised with a stunned blink resembled a fox – his favourite animal after Vicchan!) were the brightest blue he’d ever seen. Again, his mind drifted to summer, a season of bright days and brighter nights.

            He felt his cheeks burn as he stared at the man. He hadn’t realised that he was _that_ drunk!

            Victor felt his mouth hang slightly agape when the young man lifted his head to look at him. Now he’d taken his mask off, he could see the full curve of the young man’s cheekbones, the way his skin was smooth like porcelain under the alcohol-fuelled flush, the same colour as vanilla ice cream. But what made Victor gasp was the man’s eyes; large and deep, a shade of brown that made Victor think of melted chocolate, with thick lashes that fluttered as he blinked at him.

            Victor awkwardly cleared his throat before repeating his question.

            Yuuri blinked twice. The starry-haired man’s accent was rich and deep. He recognised it as being similar to Yurio’s.

            ‘So he’s Russian,’ he deduced, pleased that his drunken brain was at least working a little bit.

            “Umm…yeah, I’m fine, thanks,” he finally managed to stutter, fixing his mouth into a watery, lopsided grin, nervously scratching the back of his neck, “umm…I guess I should thank you for helping me out back there.”

            Victor noted the Asian drawl in the man’s accent. It made his voice soft, like silk sliding down his spine. He felt his cheeks tint a little at that thought and quickly pushed it down. He could tell from the man’s fake smile that he clearly _wasn’t_ fine. It made him step a bit closer, watching as those chocolate eyes widened as he approached. They weren’t frightened of him, just unsure.

            “Well, I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I ignored a damsel in distress.” He tilted his head as he grinned wolfishly; perhaps the man would relax if he teased him a little bit.

            Yuuri choked on something that felt like a cross between a laugh and a gasp. _Damsel in distress_??

            He pouted a little at the taller man’s grin. “Are you referring to me or that girl?” he asked darkly, his eyebrows furrowed.

            Victor was taken aback by the snap in the other man’s voice.

            “You, of course! That silly little girl had her own bodyguard, remember?”

            “How could I forget? I was seconds away from being his punchbag!” Yuuri snapped hotly before looking down at his hands. He sighed; that wasn’t fair, “but…thanks for saving me.” He added numbly, keeping his eyes averted from the man standing over him.

            Victor smiled softly, some of the tension releasing in his shoulders. He gestured to the wall, silently asking if he could sit next to the young man. When he shrugged, he took it as an approval and sat down. He glanced over at the man next to him; he was young, probably a little younger than himself, but no one could mistake him to be a teenager – the angle of his jaw showed his maturity, the way his full lips were set in a harsh line showed that he’d faced some hardship not associated with puberty. His hair wasn’t just black, as Victor had thought in the club, but rather it had shades of charcoal and dark brown, like the feathers of a raven. It looked even thicker and softer up close, and it fell in messy waves around the man’s face from being dragged at by his fingers.

            Victor had to twist his fingers together to fight the urge to reach up and find out just how soft those locks were.

            He cleared his throat again. “For what it’s worth, she clearly wasn’t your type.” He tried to sound light-hearted but was startled by the agitated huff that escaped the raven-haired man’s lips.

            “Why is everyone so obsessed with “my type” all of a sudden?” Yuuri exclaimed, his frustration from this evening boiling over, probably encouraged by the alcohol in his system, “No one gives a damn when I’m on the ice, so why is it such a big deal now?”

            Victor felt a sparkle of interest stir in his chest.

            “You’re a skater?” he asked excitedly. This was too big of a coincidence, them meeting like this!

            Yuuri slowly nodded, curious about the way the starry-haired-ocean-eyed man sat upright when he said that, like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He felt his own mouth tug into a small smile when he saw how the other man’s lips formed a wide smile.

            Almost in the shape of a heart…

            Yuuri shook his head absently. His drunk brain was playing tricks on him!

            Victor beamed at those chocolate eyes. So he was a skater; this explained his impressive dance moves and the way he had been able to keep up with Mila. Now that he thought about it, Victor realised that he could see a definition in the man’s biceps and thighs that could only come from training.

            He flinched, stunned. ‘Why do I keep focusing on _that_?’ he thought.

            The man’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

            “Yeah, I’m here for the Grand Prix. Actually, it’s my debut! I know that must sound weird – me making my debut at my age – but I’ve worked my ass off to get here and I really want to do my best and make everyone proud of me.” Yuuri inwardly groaned at how smug he must have sounded.

            Victor smiled at how his new friend’s face lit up. So he was in the Grand Prix too.

‘So I’ll be able to see you after tonight.’ He grinned to himself as he wondered if he was an Independent skater, looking to impress the major teams.

            “Well, if you skate as well as you dance, I can’t see you having any problems.” He said with a gentle nudge to the smaller man’s shoulder and immediately pulled away when he felt the heat radiating from him. It made the skin on his arm tingle.

            The man laughed, cheeks blushing. Victor felt something tug in his chest at the sight, like he had just seen sunlight for the first time.

            Yuuri felt himself flush at the compliment; he wasn’t used to receiving them, especially about his dancing.

            “I wouldn’t read too much into my dancing,” he admitted shyly, “I was pretending to be someone else – you know, masquerade!”

            Victor’s smile grew a little wider, intrigued. “Oh really? So you were only pretending to be an amazing dancer?” He kept his voice breezy, despite the bubble of excitement that was building in his chest. He couldn’t figure it out, but there was something about that comment that made him eager to find out more about this mysterious dancer; he’d never felt this curious about anyone so soon after meeting them before.

            Yuuri blushed harder. “I wasn’t amazing!”

            Starlight-and-sapphires beamed at him, and Yuuri could definitely see the heart shape of those lips. “I’m being serious! You were the best dancer in the whole room!”

            Raven-hair-and-blushes giggled tipsily. Victor loved that sound and promised himself that he was going to make him make it at least once more tonight.

            He dared himself to nudge himself a tiny bit closer. “So, who were you pretending to be?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

            Yuuri giggled again and inwardly chided himself for sounding like a silly drunk. But it didn’t stop him from grinning at the way he could see he had made the other man curious. He glanced around carefully, making sure no one was going to jump out at him, before moving his face closer to Starlight’s.

            “Can you keep a secret?” he whispered.

            Victor felt a tiny butterfly in his tummy as he nodded quickly. Now those eyes were even closer to him, he could see golden flecks in them, sparkling in the dark.

            “I was pretending to be my idol – Victor Nikiforov!” Yuuri giggled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!
> 
> Aren't I a tease?? ;)
> 
> I'm off work all week, so if you're lucky, I'll post another chapter sooner than usual...
> 
> Let me know how I'm doing xxx


	10. The Gentle Sin Is This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's just confessed to pretending to be his idol, Victor Nikiforov...to none other than the man himself!!  
> How will Victor react??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I'VE REACHED DOUBLE FIGURES ALREADY!!!
> 
> Ten chapters...to those of you who have been here with me from the beginning (you know who you are and I LOVE YOU!) you deserve a cookie ^_^
> 
> ...or perhaps an end to the slow build???
> 
> Your patience shall be rewarded!! 
> 
> ENJOY XXX

            Victor was pretty sure his jaw was on the floor. Literally, not figuratively!

            He gawped at the giggling Asian man sat next to him, completely dumbstruck by what he’d just said.

            He was pretending to be _him_? He was dancing like that, laughing like that, because he was pretending to be _him_?? He had been the most beautiful person in the entire club because -

            Victor shook his head hard, trying to get his thoughts out of their continuous loop. But there was another point that he couldn’t wrap his head around.

            This guy had just confessed to pretending to be him…and he clearly had no idea who he was talking to!

            He moved his hand to rub the shock from his face and his fingertips bumped against the mask. He released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding; that explains why the man hadn’t recognised him.

            His fingers continued upwards into his hair and another realisation dawned on him; since arriving in Verona, he hadn’t done an official interview yet, so there was probably only Chris and Georgi who had seen his new hairstyle.

            He smiled to himself, relieved that things were starting to make sense again.

            “Have you heard of him?”

            The younger man’s silky voice drew him out of his thoughts. He felt his smile grow crooked.

            ‘This could be fun,’ he thought to himself.

            “Hmm…Victor Nikiforov, was it?” he mused, putting a thoughtful finger to his lips, leaning back lazily to really put on an act, “the name rings a bell, I suppose.”

            Yuuri gasped incredulously.

            “You suppose? He’s only been the World Champion for the last five years! Russia’s top skater since he was nine years old! The Living Legend of St Petersburg!”

            Victor laughed. Such adulation! It made him want to flutter his eyelashes at the dark-haired man, but he resisted.

            “I see why you’d want to pretend to be him.” He joked.

            Yuuri sighed dreamily. “Pretend? I wish I _was_ him! He’s just the coolest person in the world. He’s the embodiment of confidence. And his programs are always the best! Did you see his Free Skate last year? That combination of a triple axel followed by a triple toe loop would have sent me to the floor, but he made it look as easy as breathing. Oh, and he did this amazing salchow…”

            Victor’s eyes grew wide and shiny as the man next to him delivered a blow-by-blow account of his gold-winning routine from the previous season, his face glowing with excitement under the drunken flush on his cheeks. He’d heard people praise his programs before – even read the more enthusiastic reviews from some of his more “dedicated” fans – but listening to this man, it was like he was hearing it for the first time. It made his cheeks glow under his mask, his heart quicken in his chest, his breath catch in his throat.

            But it wasn’t the praise that was having this effect on him (though he had to admit, it was nice to hear it) – it was the way the man beamed as he spoke; it was like he could see a golden light shine from the man’s core. He could see it in the relaxed slump of his shoulders, the way his hands gestured wildly as he imitated the movements and spins, the way his smile finally reached those chocolate eyes, making them seem brighter and deeper than before. It was simply this man. He was…beautiful.

            Yuuri noticed the wide, shocked expression in the silver-haired man’s crystal eyes and stopped mid-sentence, swallowing his words in a loud, painful gulp. He’d let his inner-fanboy get the better of him, no thanks to the alcohol.

            ‘I must sound like a freak!’ he thought, horrified.

            “Umm…s-sorry,” he stuttered, feeling his face melt under the gaze of those summer-blue eyes, “m-my mouth runs away from me when I’m drunk.”

            “You don’t sound that drunk to me,” Victor said quietly, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “in fact – it sounds like you really like this “Victor” guy.”

            ‘ _What are you playing at?_ ’ a voice yelled in his head.

            Yuuri felt his tongue suddenly grow thick and heavy. “W-what?!”

            Sapphire eyes twinkled mischievously at him. “Why else would you want to pretend to be him?” Yuuri’s eyes darted from the man’s eyes to his mouth as he spoke and he flinched when he saw the lower lip catching between perfect teeth as he whispered and smirked at him.

            “Because no one in their right mind would pretend to be me! I don’t even want to be me!” he practically yelled in the man’s face, making him sit back with a jump.

            Victor blinked hard twice, letting that sink in. He saw something dim in those chocolate eyes and he didn’t like it. Something felt missing, somehow.

            “I…I’d better go.” Yuuri made to stand up, feeling that fight-or-flight tug in his gut again. And he definitely wanted to take flight!

            Slender fingers snapped around his wrist, faster than he’d anticipated. The grip was tight but not painful, a heat under the skin that made his pulse race.

            Victor hadn’t realised he was reaching for the man’s hand until he felt his skin encircled in his grasp, the connection sending electric shocks up his arm.

            Sapphire eyes met amber. Not a breath stirred. One heartbeat echoed in the night air. Then another.

            _Ba dump. Ba dump._

Victor slowly released his grip on the younger man’s wrist, letting his fingers slide along the warm skin until his fingertips brushed along the other’s trembling fingers. He almost thought he saw them twitch, as if to reach back to his, but the motion disappeared as soon as he saw it.

            He pulled his mask off slowly, keeping his eyes on the man’s face.

            Yuuri gasped out loud, his eyes shooting out of his head.

            If he had thought the man was attractive with the silver fox mask on, he was absolutely stunning without it! His bright blue eyes seemed even brighter, framed by fluttering silver lashes which brushed over sculpted cheekbones that were dusted with the palest shade of pink against alabaster skin. His starlight hair fell effortlessly over his left eye and Yuuri felt his fingers itch to brush it back to see the blue underneath. Soft lips smiled tentatively at him, slightly nervous (not surprising, he thought, given how hard I’m gawping!), the tiniest shape of a heart forming.

            Just like…

            Yuuri shook his head and closed his eyes for a second. His drink-addled brain was tricking him again! Everyone knew that Victor Nikiforov had waist-length hair!

            Still…he couldn’t take his eyes off the flawless face in front of him.

            It tilted to one side, silver hair falling further over the azure eye. “Why do you not want to be yourself?” the strong accent behind those lips pulled him from his daydream, the tone inquisitive without prying. A delicate balance, but he pulled it off.

            Yuuri huffed, trying to think of the right words as he scraped his hair away from his face for the nth time. “I don’t know…I’ve not had that much luck as “me”.”

            “Do you mean that girl?” Victor felt a little anxious about the answer, though he couldn’t figure out why.

            “Well, girls in general, I guess,” Yuuri’s smile didn’t reach up to his eyes, “I’m not used to girls acting like that with me. That’s probably why I freaked out. Not very cool, huh?”

            “Are you more used to men acting like that with you?”

            ‘Seriously – _what the hell are you playing at?!_ ’ Victor was really getting annoyed with that nagging voice in his head.

            Yuuri was pretty sure his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Either that, or he was about to swallow his tongue.

            “W-wh-what?!”

            He watched the man who could now only be described as a living god lean back on his hands, smiling sweetly at him.

            “Well, you clearly didn’t like the idea of that girl kissing you. I mean, I get why – I wouldn’t want her to kiss me either! But was it just her? Or…?” he let that question trail off, waiting for the raven-haired angel to supply him with the answer.

            Yuuri reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, a furious blush blooming on his cheeks.

            “Kissing’s over-rated.”

            ‘ _Really?_ **That’s** _what you’re going with?! Yurio was right – you_ **are** _a baby!_ ’ that cruel voice in Yuuri’s head sneered.

            Victor threw his head back with a lazy laugh. Had the man not looked so cute when he said that, he would have thought he was pitiful.

            Now he did flutter his eyelashes at him, revelling in how that small gesture made the man squirm.

            “Over-rated, huh?” he smirked as something started to uncurl in the pit of his stomach, something he’d never felt before, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were scared of kissing!”

            “Am not!”

            ‘ _Oh for the love of God! Just crawl under a rock and die!_ ’ the voice in Yuuri’s head was threatening to deafen him.

            The silver-haired man’s grin grew bigger and more lopsided.

            “Tell me – do you think Victor is a good kisser?”

            “Huh?”

            Victor wasn’t really sure how long he could keep up this charade, but he was enjoying himself too much to give up just yet.

            “Well, you’re pretending to be Victor, right? So have you thought about whether or not he’s a good kisser?”

            Yuuri shrugged, rubbing his hand up and down his left arm, even though he didn’t feel cold. He’d never really thought about that, but he imagined that he’d be just as good at kissing as he was at everything else. After all, Victor Nikiforov was perfect in Yuuri’s eyes.

            The man sprang to his feet with as much poise as a cat, hands loose at his sides, back perfectly straight. Yuuri could see he had excellent posture, much like a dancer.

            Or a fellow skater.

            Victor felt a slight tremble in his hands as he stood up. He was barely a few inches away from the other man and he could now see he was slightly taller than him. He found that he liked the way he was looking up at him, golden eyes shining in the moonlight.

            “What would you do if Victor wanted to kiss you?” he knew he was pushing too far; that at any second the man could run into the night and he’d be left alone, ashamed of his forward behaviour, but he didn’t care.

            Yuuri averted his gaze, mumbling. “Pfft! Victor wouldn’t waste his time on a loser like me.”

            Victor cupped the smaller man’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, gently nudging his gaze back up to him. He saw several variations of the same emotion flash in those bright eyes, each one punching him in the chest – shock, trepidation, uncertainty.

            “I don’t think you’re a loser.” His voice barely carried over the night air.

            Yuuri felt his Adam’s Apple bob uncomfortably as he swallowed. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the taller man’s face and felt like he was going to drown in those huge blue eyes.

            Victor chewed on his bottom lip for a second, unsure if he should say what he was thinking.

            ‘ _Too late to back out now_.’

            “Do…do you think that _you’re_ a good kisser?” the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could catch them.

            Yuuri’s eyes grew impossibly wide. He quickly shook his head, his mouth unable to form words.

            He felt breath ghost on his cheeks as the man dipped his head towards him.

            “Can I find out for myself?”

            Yuuri’s brain shut off as he felt soft lips brush against his. The touch was light and warm, taking his breath away. He felt the fingers that held his chin slide upwards to gently cup his cheek and he sighed, his eyelids fluttering shut.

            Victor had never believed the old cliché of fireworks and music when it came to kissing, until that moment. But as he felt those warm lips react to his touch, parting just enough as the gorgeous man sighed to allow him access to press down a little bit deeper, his heart quickened. He saw sparks explode in glorious multicolours behind his eyelids. He heard his heart perform a magnificent melody as he reached to brush his fingers over those blushing cheeks.

            Time both stopped and sped up at once. It could have been but a single moment. It could have been an eternity. All Yuuri knew was that when the taller man withdrew his lips from his, he felt the resonating tingle warm his suddenly-cold face.

            Victor smiled sweetly, admiring the stunned sparkle in those deep eyes, the beautiful blush that danced on those plump cheeks, and the way those full lips seemed rosy, the blood rushing to them, making him crave their taste again.

            “So?”

            “Hmm?” Yuuri seemed dazed in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol.

            “Was that a good kiss?” Victor asked, his breath catching in his throat.

            Yuuri immediately wanted to nod “yes!”, but a thought sprung to mind. He shouldn’t appear too eager, he should play it cool. He had no idea where the thought had emerged from, but he liked the way it made him feel braver.

            A sly smile stretched his mouth, making the taller man raise a confused brow.

            “Well, I can’t be sure,” his voice had never sounded so confident, not even to him, “not after one kiss.”

            Oh.

            Realisation made Victor’s face light up before he drew his tongue over his smirking lips. So, he wanted to play. Okay, Victor would play too.

            “Well then, maybe you should try again,” he purred, anticipation clawing at the lowest part of his gut as he saw those amazing amber eyes dilate with want, “just to be on the safe side.”

            Yuuri eagerly tipped his head up, pressing his lips to the handsome man’s again, a little harder than he had before. He stepped into the kiss until he felt his frame press against the firm shape of the other man’s, heat radiating under that deep-blue shirt. He reached his trembling hands to clasp the man’s, fingers entwining. The gesture was soft, unaggressive.

            Victor thought his knees were going to buckle under him when the younger man captured his mouth with his, his lower lip caught between those warm lips with a gentle tug. He flicked the tip of his tongue out to brush over the lip that held his, seeking permission. The deep sigh that resonated from his kisser’s chest gave him his answer and he slipped his tongue a little further across that lip, gently pushing past it to open his mouth for him.

            Yuuri felt himself lose control of his movements as that tongue danced along his, tasting, testing, exploring. He released the man’s hands to run his fingers up those arms to those broad shoulders, massaging the firm muscles along the way. He couldn’t contain the gasp that spilled from his lips when he felt slender fingers smooth out along his waist and lower back, pulling him closer to that solid frame.

            Victor felt his breath rush out of his lungs as fingers brushed up his arms, fire trailing over the skin under his shirt. He nudged his head to one side so he could press his mouth on those sweet lips even harder, his tongue moving deeper and effortlessly against the other man’s; it was like they skating together, sliding perfectly in sync with each other.

            Yuuri followed his kisser’s lead and tipped his head in the opposite direction, allowing better access to his mouth. He tasted the alcohol on the man’s tongue and it made him feel even more tipsy than he had before. He felt dizzy, giddy, yet grounded as strong hands kept him on terra firma. It was a surreal feeling, and he relished it. Keeping one hand on the broad shoulder in front of him, he slid the other up the slender neck and smiled into the kiss when he felt the skin shiver under his touch. He kept moving his hand upwards until he could at last caress the soft silver hair that had captivated him all night.

            Victor moaned softly into their kiss, emboldened by the younger man’s touch. One hand flew up to cup that soft cheek again, the other splayed out on the man’s back to keep them pressed as close together as possible. He rubbed his thumb along that sculpted jawline, behind his ear until he could finally run his fingers through those raven locks.

            God, they were even softer than he’d imagined!

            How long they stood there, pressed together, lips and tongues performing their heated program, neither man knew or cared. Until the need for oxygen overtook the desperate craving for their kiss. Their lips reluctantly parted, wet, tingling and swollen.

            Victor panted for breath, feeling like he had just run a marathon. His eyelids felt heavy as he gazed down into those beautiful eyes, thrilled that he saw the same hungry look in them that he felt in his chest.

            “W-was that good?” his voice came out breathy, wanting. He kept his forehead pressed the smaller man’s, ready to dive back in again if he wanted to. Every nerve in his body prayed that he would!

            Yuuri nodded, already closing his eyes again, already tilting his head. “Y-yeah. The best!”

            “YUURI KATSUKI!”

            Both men jumped at the bellow. Victor quickly pulled his mask back over his face and took a step backwards, his heart jumping in his ribcage as he tried to make himself look as nonchalant as possible (which was quite an accomplishment, considering he was pretty sure his face was still flushed). Yuuri turned his head sharply at the sound of his name, coming from the direction of the main street.

            His sister, Mari, was marching towards him. Her dark eyes flashed in the streetlight, her mouth clamped tight over the half-finished cigarette. She did not look happy.

            “There you are!” she snapped, “What the hell do you think you’re playing at, disappearing like that? Everyone’s been looking for you!”

            ‘Seeing as I’m outside the door, they couldn’t have looked very hard!’ he thought sombrely but decided not to say out loud. Mostly because his mouth was still tingling from his first kiss and he didn’t want to lose that sensation just yet.

            Instead, he cast his eyes down to his shoes, hoping that he was coming across as apologetic rather than mopey.

            It seemed to appease his sister, who took an agitated drag on her cigarette. She cast a quizzical glance at the man standing behind him. Yuuri thought she was about to tease him – finding him in a dark courtyard with a strange man was like offering his self-esteem to her on a platter! – but she frowned and glared back at him instead.

            “Come on,” she hooked her hand under his elbow and pulled him in the direction of the street, “Your coach has called time on the party. Home time – now!” she added sharply when she saw him turn his head towards the masked man.

            Yuuri felt himself being pushed towards the street, his feet stumbling in protest. He cast his eyes back over his shoulder. Though the man had his mask back on, he could still see the exhilarated flush on his cheeks. Sapphire eyes twinkled, rivalling the stars themselves, locked on him and only him. He half-turned back – he wanted to at least say goodnight and ask for his name (how had he only just realised that he didn’t know the name to go with those lips?) – but Mari shoved him again. Hard.

            Victor felt anxious as Yuuri – oh wow, what a name! – was being led away from him by a woman that strongly resembled him, save for the blonde tips of her short hair. He quickly deduced that she must have been a relative, relieved that this wasn’t another woman that he’d have to rescue Yuuri from.

            Not that he wouldn’t love the opportunity.

            “Excuse me,” he called, keeping his voice clear and level; much like when he had to appeal to a sponsor, “may I ask who his coach is?”

            If he found out who his coach was, Victor would be able to track him down at the press conference in the morning. He could pretend to be acting on behalf of Montague Corp, scouting the Asian skater. He smiled, proud at how quickly he had come up with the perfect plan.

            The woman – Mari, wasn’t it? – glared dark eyes at him, as if she couldn’t believe he had dared to speak to her. Victor, though easily several inches taller, felt very small under the weight of that stare.

            Her lips twitched over her cigarette.

            “Celestino Cialdini.” She said bluntly, turning her back to follow her brother to the street.

            Victor felt a cold hand grip his heart and squeeze it hard. He stared numbly at the backs of Yuuri and Mari as they turned the corner and out of his sight.

            Celestino Cialdini. He knew that name.

            He was the coach of his team’s biggest rival.

            Victor felt his hand fly up to his mouth to hold in the gasp of utter shock. He could still feel the pressure of Yuuri’s mouth imprinted on his lips.

            Celestino was Yuuri’s coach. Yuuri was…oh god, why??

            “I’ve just made out with someone from Team Capulet!”

***

            Yuuri finally freed his elbow from Mari’s vice-like grip just before they got to their hotel.

            “What is your problem?” he asked, harsher than usual. Maybe it was the alcohol still keeping hold of his manners; maybe it was this strange, overpowering urge to run back and find the mystery man again. Either way, he wanted his sister to spit out whatever it was that was making her mad at him.

            “My problem?” Mari snapped, “What the hell’s _your_ problem? What the hell were you doing with _him_?”

            Yuuri flinched, hoping the dark street hid the fresh blush on his face.

            “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “Don’t give me that, Yuuri! What did that asshole say to you?”

            Yuuri frowned. “Wait, do…do you know him?”

            That was the only reason why his usually-placid sister would be all fired up, whether she had seen them kissing or not.

            Mari stared at him for a second before she snorted contemptuously.

            “You are such an idiot!” she hissed, shaking her head.

            “What are you talking about?” Yuuri held his arm out in front of Mari, stopping her from walking ahead of him.

            She shook her head again, agitation visible in her set jaw. “That stupid haircut didn’t fool me. That was Victor Nikiforov, you dumbass!”

            Yuuri almost laughed at how ridiculous that sounded! He, of all people, would have known if the silver-haired man…

            Silver hair that sparkled like starlight…

            Blue eyes that outshone sapphires…

            Lips that always formed a heart-shaped smile…

            Lips that had just been kissing his…

            _No. It-it couldn’t…he wasn’t…he was…oh god! He was. Oh god! No no no no no!!!!_

            “Yuuri?” Mari was shaking his arm, but he hadn’t felt it.

            He couldn’t breathe. His heart was going to jump out of his chest. His body screamed at him to run. Run far and run fast!

            He turned on his heel and, for the second time that day, he ran blindly, his sister’s anxious calls fading behind him.

            ‘Victor Nikiforov! I’ve just kissed Victor Nikiforov! _My first kiss was with Victor freakin’ Nikiforov!!_ ’ his thoughts were so loud, they might as well have been shouting into the night as he fled.

            His life was officially over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CRAP!! YES YES YEEEESSSSS!!!
> 
> Now the real fun begins （⌒▽⌒）
> 
> I've set myself a challenge - before I post each chapter, I must write a new one to always keep ahead of myself. Keep your fingers crossed for me!!
> 
> Thank you so much for staying with me this far, I hope you continue on this journey with me.
> 
> I've loved all your amazing comments so far, so please don't be shy - you know I'll always reply <3<3<3


	11. Can I Go Forward When My Heart Is Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor's trying to get his head around the revelation that the object of his desires, Yuuri Katsuki, is a skater for Team Capulet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The responses I received for their first kiss made my heart do a quad flip <3<3
> 
> Unfortunately, my holiday's over :'( so I'll be back to less frequent posts, so I hope you'll forgive me xxx
> 
> ENJOY XXX

            Victor sat on the crumbled wall for what felt like a lifetime, though it was probably only a few minutes, staring blindly into the night. It was like his brain was trying to catch all these thoughts that were flying about and put them into some kind of order, but it couldn’t do it quick enough.

            He had just shared what could only be described as the best kiss of his life with the most beautiful man he had ever met.

            And then he found out that that man was called Yuuri Katsuki. He smiled as he tested that name on his lips; it felt _so_ good!

            But that’s where the goodness ended. Because that woman, Mari, had told him that his coach was Celestino Cialdini, Team Capulet’s head coach. Yuuri must have been the new skater that he saw going into the arena earlier that day; the new recruit.

            Taking his mask off again, he rubbed his face with his hands and huffed.

            ‘This is so unfair!’ he thought to himself, deciding that he was entitled to a moment of sulking.

            His eyes caught something glittering under the streetlamp. He stared at it, and a gentle smile pulled at his mouth.

            It was Yuuri’s mask.

            He picked it up and gazed at it, watching the metallic surface reflect the soft light as he turned it over in his hands. His fingers stroked it lovingly and he imagined he was touching Yuuri’s face again.

            “So you were pretending to be me,” he whispered to the mask, chuckling quietly, “who was I pretending to be?”

            He quickly fished out his phone from his pocket, eager to find out more about the _real_ Yuuri Katsuki. Typing his name into a search engine, it didn’t take long for Victor to find several links to Japanese news sites. The more recent headlines were not complimentary:

            “Disastrous Season For Katsuki”

            “Yuuri’s Last Chance?”

            “Katsuki’s Capulet Debut”

            Victor bypassed the scathing reports (you can’t believe everything you read, he told himself) and tapped onto a video from the previous season.

            Yuuri was wearing a sparkling blue jacket over a white shirt with a frothy, lacey collar. Victor smiled wistfully, thinking that he looked absolutely adorable…

            “Ouch!” he winced as he watched Yuuri slam face-first into the wall.

            He scored through several videos and they all followed a similar pattern; Yuuri would start off strong, his poise elegant and athletic, but then he’d misstep out of a jump, miscalculate his rotations or fumble a step sequence and unfortunately stumble. Then Victor could see Yuuri overthink, his concentration broken, which made it almost impossible to recover. Ultimately, he finished his routine either lying on the ice or floundering through the final movements, his eyes glistening with threatening tears.

            Victor’s mouth set itself into a hard line. He saw the potential in the young man – the routines could easily be worthy of a medal of any colour – but he was clearly his own worst enemy, judging by the way he sloped off to the Kiss & Cry at the end of each video. It was like his brain wasn’t connecting with his skates properly.

            It seemed a million miles away from the display he had just seen in the club. It was like there were two Yuuris – one that was a stumbling, sobbing mess, one that was confident, self-aware and sexy.

            That last thought made him backtrack.

            “Sexy”? Victor hummed thoughtfully, staring at the freezeframe of Yuuri in his opening stance. His thumb brushed over his screen, over the shining, hopeful face that he’d just kissed.

            He replayed that kiss in his mind. The way Yuuri had held him close, the way the heat from his lips and tongue had made a hungry growl bubble up inside of him, made Victor blush. Sure, he’d kissed several girls (even a few boys!) but he had never felt so…desperate for another kiss from someone before. It was like he had been starving himself, and only the taste of Yuuri’s lips could satisfy him!

            He blushed even harder.

            “Thank God Chris isn’t a mind reader!” he laughed nervously, “I’d never hear the end of it!”

            A loud bang from the club entrance made him jump. And for a moment he thought that maybe Chris was, in fact, telepathic.

            Because he was leaving the club, half-carrying-half-dragging an extremely intoxicated Georgi with him, who was blubbering. Anya and Mila were not far behind them, screeching profanities in Russian.

            “Svoloch!” Anya spat at Georgi.

            “Ty tupok mudak!” Mila yelled, waving her hands in the air incredulously.

            “Take it easy, ladies!” Chris huffed, dumping a sobbing Georgi on the floor. “It wouldn’t do for someone to hear such unladylike language.”

            “Well, what do you expect, Chris?” Mila scowled, “the big cry-baby got us kicked out!”

            Now it was Chris’ turn to scowl at his drunk teammate. Everything was going so well; he had been enjoying some _very_ dirty dancing with that dreamy doorman and was just about to ask him if he wanted a “private show” – his go-to chat-up line – when the music had been abruptly stopped mid-song.

            That was when he’d looked across the packed club and groaned at the sight of Georgi grappling with the DJ over the microphone.

            “Anya! Anya, lyubov moya! Take me back, please - ”

            That was all he had managed to scream into the mic before a burly security guard (who looked like he ate nothing but steroids) had picked him up by his waist and started dragging him to the exit.

            “Hey, isn’t that your friend?” the blonde doorman had said, his brows furrowed.

            Chris had sighed. “Unfortunately.”

            Just when he had thought he could pretend not to see Georgi (with the hopes of continuing his pursuit of his doorman), the stupid Russian had grabbed Anya’s wrist, spewing nonsensical drivel. The brunette had started yelling at Georgi, which didn’t impress the security guard. So he had put his hand out, guiding Anya to the exit too.

            Mila had jumped to her friend’s defence – it wasn’t fair to make her leave because of Georgi – but that just led to her being asked to leave as well.

            “Security is a top priority here.” The doorman had shrugged when Chris had glanced at him, hoping for some assistance.

            Not wanting to leave Georgi at the mercy of the two Montague Corp Hellcats, Chris had begrudgingly run to catch up with his friends, taking the Russian man out of the huge guard’s grip. He had wrapped his arm under his friend’s ribs, holding him up, and had nudged him in the direction of the exit. But Georgi was being ridiculously uncooperative, constantly drooping to the floor in loud, noisy sobs, and Chris had had to kick the door to open it without loosening his grip on the stupid idiot.

            Looking at him now, snivelling in the courtyard, wiping his nose on his sleeve, Chris wasn’t sure that he’d done the right thing. Maybe he should have let the girls tear him a new one while he got down to some serious business with that doorman.

            But it was too late for that.

            Chris rubbed his brow, slowly releasing a calming breath through his nose.

            “Guess we’d better call it a night.” He said numbly.

            Anya scowled. “Well, we don’t have much of a choice, do we?”

            Mila suddenly looked around, frowning. “Hey, where’s Victor? Didn’t he come in with you guys?”

            Chris’ head snapped in her direction. How had he forgotten about Victor? Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember seeing him in the club just now. But he was sure that he had been with Georgi when he’d gone looking for his doorman.

            He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled Victor’s number.

            Victor held his breath as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, the buzzing noise seemed incredibly loud. He had ducked around the corner into a darkened alley when he had heard them come out of the club; he hadn’t been sure why at the time, it wasn’t like he was scared of them finding him, he just hadn’t wanted to be found just yet.

            But after hearing them bicker, he was glad he had hidden. They would have surely killed his buzz by now!

            “ _Hey there, this is Victor Nikiforov! Sorry I can’t make it to the phone, please leave a message. Poka!”_

Chris huffed when he heard the chirpy voicemail message. It wasn’t like Victor to not answer his phone, especially to him.

            “Victor, where the hell are you? Georgi’s managed to beat his personal best and piss off three out of four of his teammates, and I’m helping him make it a full house – if you’re still inside, come out here. We’re all going back to the hotel together to make Georgi suffer!”

            He tried phoning Victor three more times. Each time he heard the voicemail message, he got more and more agitated. Having to listen to Georgi snivel while Mila and Anya continued to berate him didn’t help his mood, either.

            “VIIIIIIICTOOOOOR!” Chris cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed into the night. Victor put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from sniggering.

            “What are you playing at?” Mila frowned at him.

            “He’s not answering his phone!” Chris snapped.

            “So, what? You’re going to shout for him instead? Christ’s sake, Chris, this is Victor you’re talking about, not his silly dog!”

            Victor was about to say something – how dare she bring his beloved Makkachin into this! – but he stopped himself just in time. He kept perfectly still in the shadows, satisfying himself with glowering at Mila, making a mental note to let Makkachin “accidentally” chew her sweater next time he had the opportunity.

            “She’s right,” Anya piped up, flinching away from Georgi’s outstretched hand like he was some kind of leper, “for all we know, Victor ducked out on us. He’s probably already at the hotel, getting his precious beauty sleep.”

            Victor snorted. She was one to talk about beauty sleep!

            Besides, sleep was the last thing on his mind. The only thing that was on his mind had chocolate eyes and honey-coated lips.

            He chewed his lower lip, grateful that his friends couldn’t see him, no doubt blushing like a schoolgirl. Again!

            “Fine!” Chris huffed, pulling Georgi to his feet, “let’s just get him back before any paparazzi appear – Yakov and Lilia will murder us in our beds if we let him get snapped in this state!”

            Anya and Mila shivered at that thought and hurriedly agreed. As much as they were annoyed with Georgi, it wasn’t worth getting him into trouble with their coaches over. No doubt he’d be full of apologies in the morning (which they’d make him repeat over and over!).

            So they set off back to the hotel. Chris put his arm around Georgi’s midriff again, though he wasn’t exactly gentle about it as he barked at him to start walking. Anya and Mila closely followed, muttering between each other as they cast dark glances at the drunken Russian.

            Victor stayed in his hiding place until their voices drifted into heavy silence. He slumped against the wall and looked up at the night sky; thousands of tiny diamond-coloured stars blinked down at him, the only witnesses to his kiss silently keeping his secret for him.

            He looked down at the gold mask in his hand and knew immediately what he wanted to do. What he needed to do. What he absolutely, undeniably had to do!

            Checking that the courtyard was indeed clear, he darted onto the main street and headed in the direction of the arena.

            It looked so different at night time; the soft streetlights, along with the numerous security lights, bounced off the multiple full-length windows, keeping the inside totally black. It seemed more imposing, somehow.

            Victor knew that if he continued on the street to the right of the arena, he’d arrive at his hotel. But if he took the road to the left, he’d end up at Team Capulet’s hotel.

            Yuuri’s hotel.

            He hovered for a moment. As excited as he was at the thought of seeing Yuuri again – and he knew he absolutely _had_ to see Yuuri again! – what was he supposed to do? Just walk in and ask for his room number? And even if the receptionist was stupid enough to give him that information (which he very much doubted, given the level of security that his own hotel had in place to keep Team Capulet troublemakers out), could he just knock on Yuuri’s door? What if he didn’t want to see him again? What if he was embarrassed by what they did? What if he had finally realised who he was and was angry at him for not telling him?

            He shook his head, annoyed at himself.

            ‘Sleep on it,’ a voice advised him, ‘you’ll see him at the press conference in the morning. If he feels the same way as you, you’ll find out tomorrow.’

            _If. Tomorrow._

He hated those words.

            The sound of footsteps brought him to his senses and he froze, hoping the shadows between each streetlight were dark enough to hide him. Someone was running towards the arena. He couldn’t quite make out who it was under the streetlights; whoever it was, they were running for their lives!

            The person threw open one of the main doors, it smacking the wall with an echoing bang. A security light inside blinked on, bathing them in a bright white light.

            Victor saw thick dark hair. A black shirt over faded jeans.

            And he ran like his life depended on it. He outstretched his hand just in time to stop the door from slamming shut and made his way into the darkened arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next: _the balcony scene!!!_
> 
> ARE YOU EXCITED YET??? I KNOW I AM!!! :D:D
> 
> Don't be shy - let me know what you think of this "filler" chapter ^_^
> 
> LOVE TO YOU ALL XXX


	12. It Is My Yuuri, O It Is My ‘L’ Word!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now...the Balcony Scene <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been so excited about this chapter, it's unreal!!
> 
> I really hope you like it ^_^

            Victor took a few minutes to look around the new arena. Even in the dim security lights, it was just as imposing on the inside as it was on the outside. The smell of fresh paint and bleach made his nose wrinkle, his shoes squeaked quietly on the polished tiled floor.

            It looked like it could easily accommodate over half of the city, with room to spare. Victor had never been to an arena so large, not even those that had been built for Olympic competitions, but given that the whole Grand Prix season was being hosted under one roof, he supposed that it made sense. He wondered how spacious the rink was, how many spectators there would be. It gave him that familiar thrill that only came from performing, like a welcome hug from an old friend.

            He noticed banners draped from the ceiling; half were white with ruby-red lettering – the emblem of Montague Corp – and the other half were royal blue with a gold font – Team Capulet. The exact same number of each flag were spaced equally apart from each other. Merchandise stands, displaying everything from brochures to keyrings to imitation tracksuit hoodies, were also equally spread out.

            ‘They might as well put up a sign saying, “No Favouritism!” and be done with it.’ He thought bitterly; he knew the feud was getting out of control amongst the fans, but he had had no idea it was so blatantly obvious.

            Posters adorned the walls, showing each skater in all their glory. Victor grimaced when he spotted his; he had hated that photoshoot. Whilst his teammates had all posed in their official uniforms – white tracksuits with ruby-red bands going from the shoulders down to the wrists – Yakov and Lilia had insisted on him wearing a tuxedo with shiny black, pointed shoes, a red rose held deftly across his heart.

            Something about wanting to proudly show off their champion.

            Victor had felt like a pedigree pooch being put on parade.

            Then his eyes fell upon the poster next to his.

            “Introducing to Team Capulet: Yuuri Katsuki”

            Gold font hovered above a photo of Yuuri. He was wearing the official black-with-a-thin-royal-blue-stripe-down-each-arm tracksuit of his new team and holding a bouquet of blue roses in front of his chest. Victor felt his heart clench at the way Yuuri’s smile was slightly lopsided – he looked so shy, it was adorable!

            He reached up to gently brush his fingertips along the poster, up to Yuuri’s thick hair and along his full lips, sighing as the sensory memory of the real thing made his skin tingle.

            A noise, low and muffled, made him jump. It was the unmistakeable sound of blades on fresh ice.

            He followed the sound until he reached a set of double doors. His heart hammering in his chest, he pushed one of the doors and peeked through. His eyes blew wide at the sheer enormousness of the main arena; thousands of plastic grey seats curved around the rink, reaching up to the gods. He noticed that he had walked through one of four entrances that split the seating area into quadrants, much like that of points on a compass. His eyes followed a concrete pillar upwards and he gaped at the high arched ceiling; several iron beams stretched from one side of the arena to the other, supporting the thick glassed ceiling. It was the most beautiful part of the arena, allowing natural light into the concrete box. Right now Victor could see the moon and stars above him; it was like something out of a fairy-tale. The whole place looked like it was bigger than the Coliseum in Rome and Victor shuddered, knowing that his fans were probably just as likely to bay for Capulet blood as much as any ancient Roman.

            The rink itself was dazzling under the floodlights, cloaking the rest of the arena in darkness. It looked bigger than any Olympic rink he’d ever skated on and he wondered if that was to allow for bigger, grander routines, or just to keep the teams as far apart from each other as possible. Sure enough, he saw four colour-blocked seating areas, cordoned off by plastic, transparent walls; red for Montague Corp, blue for Capulet and green for the Independents, along with black leather-covered seats for the judges and commentators. Each coloured block was set in a “corner” of the rink, making it perfectly clear to everyone where they were supposed to be.

            ‘Why not just use police tape and barbed wire?’ Victor scoffed.

            His attention was drawn to the rink as the sound of blades on ice intensified and he held his breath.

            It was Yuuri.

            Still wearing his faded jeans and black shirt, he was skating furiously, loudly huffing and groaning as he pushed himself around the ice at a tremendous pace. His face was twisted in frustration, flushed and sweating, as he attempted a triple axel and stumbled. He quickly picked himself up again and raced to the other side of the rink, gathering speed to try again. And again he stumbled, a snarl echoing around the arena.

            Victor stood in the dark, mesmerised. He had never seen anyone attack the ice before; there was no other way to describe the frenzied movements. He should have been concerned that Yuuri could hurt himself, the way he was throwing himself around the rink, but he was fascinated by the furious passion in his movements, drawn in by the story they were telling. The performer in him wanted to watch the story unfold, yet Victor felt himself being pulled towards Yuuri like a moth to a flame, wanting to reach out to him, to make him stop and take a breath.

            “VICTOR!”

            Victor froze and held his breath. He felt the blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the rink, at a furious Yuuri who had just bellowed his name at the top of his lungs, his fists clenched tight on his temples.

            “Seriously - Victor? How the _hell_ did you not know it was Victor?! How wasted were you?” Yuuri scowled to the (what he thought to be) deserted arena, venting every noxious thought as he roughly glided on the ice, “And what was with all that “oh Victor’s sooo cool! Victor’s sooo amazing!” drivel? He’s probably laughing at you right now, you stupid, stupid idiot!”

            ‘I’m not! I’m not!’ Victor really wanted to scream out, to run up to him, but he suddenly felt frightened. He had expected Yuuri to be embarrassed by what happened, sure, but he sounded so _angry._

            “And, of course, he just _had to be your first kiss_! God! So not only were you the world’s biggest dork, you were the world’s biggest dork who snogged Victor Nikiforov! He’s probably laughing about that too, you know! Laughing at how pathetic you are – oh my god, when he sees you tomorrow at the press conference, he’s probably going to run a mile!”

            Yuuri grunted as he tumbled to the ice, his fall finally putting an end to his tirade. He knelt on the ice, panting for breath, his legs cramping from the exertion. He felt so many emotions at once and he couldn’t get rid of them fast enough. His mind kept replaying that kiss over and over like a broken record and he felt embarrassed, excited, humiliated, joyful, angry…it was making him want to vomit!

            Victor kept his hands clamped over his mouth as he continued to stare at Yuuri. That had been Yuuri’s first kiss?! How was that even possible? It had been so perfect, Victor had been sure he had been just one in a long list of admirers. And how could Yuuri even think that he would laugh at him – did he think he was some airheaded playboy looking for a quick thrill on a night out? He wasn’t like Chris; he hadn’t gone to that club tonight on the lookout for a hook-up, and yet, somehow, he had discovered something so much better. Something that made his heart do a quad flip.

            ‘I’d better put him out of his misery.’ He thought, taking a step forward. Then he froze again as Yuuri stood up and sighed.

            His eyes almost popped out of his head as he saw Yuuri touch his fingertips to his lips, softly brushing the dark pink surface that he remembered the taste of. Yuuri slowly closed his eyes as he touched his lips and the tension in his shoulders melted away.

            Yuuri pushed himself to the centre of the ice and stood, back perfectly straight with his left hand held over his heart, his right sweeping out to the empty seats in a regal bow.

            Victor nearly gasped out loud. He recognised that starting pose!

            “Just for tonight,” Yuuri muttered softly, the words still managing to drift to Victor, “I am Victor Nikiforov, the world’s greatest skater. And…the world’s best kisser.”

            ‘That title belongs to you!’ Victor thought drolly, his spine tingling at the declaration, a gentle blush blooming on his cheeks as he waited for Yuuri to start skating again.

            He knew what was coming, but it still made the breath catch in his chest with anticipation; his gold-medal program from last year.

            Yuuri slowly spun on his left foot, his arms reaching out to an invisible person, his face glowing with longing as he stepped out of the spin into a graceful spread eagle. He pushed into a double loop, followed by a double lutz. A forward crossover into a flying camel spin. As he pulled himself out of the camel spin, Yuuri flung his splayed hands to the heavens, his eyes pleading to be seen, to be found and saved. A triple salchow into a beautiful layback spin…

            Victor stared slack jawed as his routine played out in front of him. He had known it was a great routine when he’d choreographed it, its message of seeking the next adventure clear in the distant shimmer in Yuuri’s eyes, but it felt different to see the young man perform it instead of himself. It took his breath away. He was amazed at how effortless Yuuri made it look, despite the occasional misstep; what amazed Victor the most was that, when Yuuri did make a mistake, he didn’t dwell on it, like he did in those videos – he just moved straight onto the next sequence.

            Just like _he_ always did.

            Now Victor understood why Yuuri was pretending to be him in the club, but the realisation left him feeling numb. Had he fallen for an act? Would Yuuri let him see the real him?

            But those negative thoughts were immediately forgotten when Yuuri attempted a quad flip – _his_ signature move! Granted, he fell to the ice – hard, judging by the grunt that shot out of Yuuri’s mouth – but there was no doubt in Victor’s mind that he was finally seeing the real Yuuri. There was no way to imitate a quad flip, you could either execute it or you couldn’t. And Yuuri did it! Well, nearly. But that was enough to convince Victor that this was the Yuuri he wanted to know more about. This was the Yuuri who could easily match him in the Grand Prix, give him the competition he’d been eagerly waiting for. This was the Yuuri who could inspire him to skate at his peak, just to ensure he could be on the same ice as him.

            This was the Yuuri Katsuki who had won his heart.

            As Yuuri took his final position – a back spin that slowed until he stood with his hands pressed to his heart, head bowed in reverence – Victor was suddenly aware that, somehow, he had wound up at the barrier that surrounded the rink. In fact, he realised that he probably would have kept walking to Yuuri if his feet hadn’t bumped against the wall.

            “That was beautiful!” he gasped, a lot louder than he had intended. His hands flew to his mouth as his words echoed around the ice, multiplying and magnifying on the sleek surface.

            Yuuri screamed and fell backwards.

            Someone was in here? Someone was in here! Someone was watching him! Someone was watching him skate Victor’s program!

            He fumbled in his pocket for his glasses and thrust them onto his face, his head darting in all directions to look for the source of that voice.

            Victor felt his heart flip again. Those glasses made Yuuri’s eyes look so much bigger; could he get any cuter?!

            “Who-who-who’s there?” Yuuri squeaked, his heart thumping so hard it made his chest vibrate, “Who’s there?” he called again, grateful that his voice didn’t break again.

            He heard shuffling behind him and he turned sharply, squinting under the floodlights. He held his hand above his eyes, trying to see beyond the rink, but it was useless; the lights were so bright, he couldn’t see past the first row of seats.

            ‘No wonder someone was able to sneak up on me.’ He thought coldly.

            The muffled footsteps continued until he had turned to face a raised platform, just off the ice, a cushioned bench at its centre, the wall behind it emblazoned with logos of numerous sponsors; the Kiss & Cry.

            He heard the mystery person clear their throat. It sounded sheepish.

            “Well, it’s a bit difficult to tell you who I am,” a voice chuckled – a rich, soft voice that Yuuri instantly recognised, a voice that he had only first heard in person that very night – as a figure appeared under the lights, “seeing as you’re pretending to be me tonight.”

            Yuuri was sure he was either about to pass out or vomit as he stared at the Kiss & Cry; soft suede shoes stood at angles that only a dancer would find comfortable. Tight black trousers revealed the definition in the long, slender legs that filled them perfectly. Yuuri remembered the soft texture of that dark-blue, metallic shirt, remembered how his fingertips had found firm muscles underneath it, remembered the gentle strength that those arms had held him with.

            His heart definitely stopped as his eyes continued to travel upwards. Past the alabaster collarbone, the slender neck, to Victor’s face. The floodlights illuminated him like heaven must illuminate an angel; his sculpted cheekbones were dusted pink, his silver hair (‘Oh my god, my hands were in that hair!’ Yuuri thought with a gulp) sparkled like it was made of woven starlight, falling over an eye so brilliantly blue that it made sapphires green with envy. A coy smile was dancing on those full lips.

            Lips that Yuuri had kissed.

            Victor nervously rubbed the back of his neck, chewing his lower lip just to stop himself from saying something stupid. He felt exposed under the bright floodlights, under the intense weight of Yuuri’s stare. Not that he minded the stare – he’d happily have stood there all night, letting Yuuri stare at him, just so he could stare back – but the silence was killing him.

            Yuuri dropped to his knees, shaking uncontrollably.

            “I-I-I am so so sorry!” he blurted out as he lowered his forehead to the ice, too ashamed of himself to dare look at Victor, “I…I didn’t know you were there. I didn’t mean to do your routine without your permission! I swear, I didn’t mean to - ”

            He was cut off by the sound of soft laughter. He looked up and saw Victor smiling brightly, a hand in front of his lips in a failed attempt to stop the laughter.

            Victor held his hand out, palm facing Yuuri, apologetically. “Sorry, I’ve just never seen Japanese Dogeza in person before! It’s cute!” he beamed at Yuuri, his head slightly tilted, and was amused by the dumbstruck look on the Japanese man’s face, “Relax, Yuuri. You looked beautiful just now – my routine clearly suits you.”

            Yuuri knelt up, his heart still ready to jump out of his chest. “Y-you know my name?”

            Victor winked at him. “Your sister shouted your name – remember? Right after we…” he felt his cheeks redden a little as he saw that Yuuri clearly _did_ remember, judging by the way his entire face turned scarlet.

            He cleared his throat. “Besides, I believe it is I who should be apologising to you, Yuuri.” He couldn’t help himself; he loved the way Yuuri’s name felt on his tongue, he just had to keep saying it.

            Yuuri finally got to his feet, frowning. “For what?”

            “Well…” Victor rubbed his neck again, suddenly struggling for the right words, “I guess…for the kiss…I realise that you didn’t know who I was at the time, and I should have told you sooner, but - ”

            “I’m not sorry about the kiss!”

            Victor stared wide-eyed at Yuuri when he blurted that out. Even Yuuri looked surprised that he’d said that. But it was the truth; Yuuri was sorry about acting like a drunken moron, about sounding like an obsessive otaku fanboy, but he was definitely _not_ sorry about kissing Victor.

            He pushed himself towards the Kiss & Cry, his fists clenched at his sides to hide the tremor in his fingers. He couldn’t look away from Victor, watching his azure eyes widen with trepidation as he approached.

            Victor felt his palms grow sweaty and he rubbed them on his hips quickly. He considered stepping backwards, to allow Yuuri to step onto the raised platform with more ease, but his legs wouldn’t listen to him.

            Yuuri stayed on the ice but held onto the barrier’s wall to steady himself. He cocked his head to one side, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

            “Did you follow me here?”

            “No,” Victor said quickly – probably a little too quickly, judging from how Yuuri’s eyes narrowed even more, “I was actually going to go to your hotel and then I saw you come in here.”

            “Why were you going to my hotel?”

            “I…I wanted to see you again.”

            Yuuri blushed at the way Victor smiled sweetly at him, his eyes sparkling in the light. He thought they looked so much brighter than before.

            “W-why would you want to do that?” he asked thickly.

            Victor’s smile grew a little bigger. “I don’t know. Maybe I wanted a kiss goodnight.”

            Yuuri thought he was going to melt the ice, his face burning under Victor’s gaze.

            Victor thought his grin was going to split his face; the flustered look on Yuuri’s face was now at the top of his list of his most favourite sights (the top ten spots had always consisted of Makkachin in all kinds of poses and games, but Yuuri just surpassed them all).

            “You weren’t this shy before, Yuuri,” he teased, revelling at how the younger man’s face just kept getting redder and redder, “was it because of this?”

            He produced Yuuri’s gold mask from where he had tucked it in the small of his back and held it up in the air.

            Yuuri stared at the mask, struggling to understand why Victor would have it. He frowned at Victor, who stared back at him apprehensively.

            “Is that why you’re here, to mock me?” Yuuri gestured at the mask, the gold surface flashed in the bright light and made Yuuri feel like it was another set of eyes judging him.

            “Certainly not!” Victor quipped flatly, tossing the mask to the floor, “I just wanted you to relax, like you did before!”

            Yuuri stepped off the ice and strode over to Victor until he was barely an inch from him. Victor could almost see his own reflection in Yuuri’s glasses – that is, if he wasn’t so preoccupied with staring at the large chocolate eyes underneath them and the flash in the golden centre of his irises – and he took a step back, shocked by the sudden change in Yuuri’s demeanour. Every time he took a step backwards, Yuuri followed him, his eyes locked on Victor’s, until the taller man felt his back hit the wall.

            With his skates still on, the blades added a little extra height and Yuuri was almost able to look Victor square in the eyes. It was a strange sensation; it was like he was even closer to him than before. His heart was making his chest vibrate, his limbs trembling with so much built-up adrenaline he thought he was visibly shaking.

            But when he saw the way Victor swallowed thickly, he found a way to release that adrenaline.

            “You want me to relax, Victor?” he brought his voice down several octaves and inwardly smirked when he saw Victor’s mouth hang agape as tipped his face closer, “I don’t feel relaxed. How would you help me relax…Victor?”

            He drew out the last consonant of Victor’s name, almost like a purr, right before he crashed his lips against Victor’s, capturing the stunned gasp that almost escaped.

            If Victor hadn’t already been leaning against the wall, he was pretty sure he would have swooned the instant he felt Yuuri kiss him. He ravenously returned the kiss; it couldn’t have been more than an hour since their last kiss, but it felt like a lifetime to Victor and he desperately wanted to make up the lost time. He gripped the back of Yuuri’s head, curling his fingers into the thick, soft raven locks, moaning softly as Yuuri nipped his lower lip with his teeth. He felt Yuuri’s hands grab his neck and back, felt his body pin him to the wall and he surrendered to the tight grip. He had never felt anything so intense in his whole life – it was like the first time he won a gold medal, only a million times better! And he needed more. He needed the burning sensation on his lips as the kiss deepened more than he needed air. He needed the sparks that spread over his skin under Yuuri’s touch, desperate for them to spread through his whole body and engulf him in flames.

            He needed Yuuri. _God, he needed him so fucking badly!_

Suddenly, Yuuri pulled back from the kiss, making Victor frown with confusion. Why had he stopped when it was getting so good?

            Yuuri stepped back until he was sure he was out of Victor’s reach, panting for breath. He ran his trembling hands through his hair, making it stick out at odd angles. Victor wanted to reach out and smooth it through his fingers but resisted when he saw what he thought was pain in Yuuri’s eyes.

            “This…this is insane!” Yuuri half-laughed-half-gasped, staring wildly around the empty arena as if someone was going to jump out of the shadows, “You’re Victor Nikiforov, Montague Corp’s Champion!”

            “And you’re Yuuri Katsuki, Team Capulet’s angel,” Victor grinned, “there, introductions made. So…” he moved to take Yuuri’s hand in his, fully intending to pull him into another passionate kiss, but missed when Yuuri flinched away.

            “I mean – I mean it’s insane _because_ of our teams! If anyone found out…”

            Victor hummed pensively and cast his eyes around, suddenly feeling like they were being watched too. Yuuri was right; their teams were bigger rivals than David and Goliath. If word got out, there would no doubt be hell to pay.

            “I’d probably be sent back to Japan,” Yuuri continued, his face paling, eyes widening, “You might even get sent back to Russia - ”

            “I’d never let that happen!” Victor interrupted him, pitching forward to grab Yuuri’s hands and hold them over his pounding heart; the very thought of being thousands of miles away from Yuuri not only frightened him, it infuriated him, “I’d follow you to Japan if I had to. Hell, I’d defect if that’s what it takes to be with you!”

            Yuuri’s eyes shot out of his head at the steely resolve in Victor’s voice.

            “A-are you serious?!”

            “Yuuri, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I…I think – no, scratch that, I know! – I’m in love with you! So I need you to tell me now – do you love me too?” Victor gripped Yuuri’s hands tighter, gazing deep into his eyes, his heart-shaped smile almost taking over his entire face.

            Yuuri stammered, taken completely by surprise. This was too much to take in! “W-what? I…I don’t know!”

            Victor dropped Yuuri’s hands and stepped back, crestfallen. He walked over to the padded bench and sat down, hanging his head, resting his elbows on his knees.

            Yuuri stared bug-eyed at Victor. Victor Nikiforov. Victor, who had just asked him if he loved him.

            ‘Victor…Victor loves me?’ his stupid brain was really struggling to process that information. But when it finally did, he thought he was going burst at the seams.

            _Victor loves me!_

He looked around the arena again, but this time it was not with fear, it was with determination. He’d spent god knows how many years dreaming of competing in the Grand Prix with Victor, fantasising about how it would feel to be on the same ice as him, even standing on the winner’s podium with him. But now…now Victor was standing right there in front of him, offering some bigger than any gold medal. Victor was in touching distance from him.

            Kissing distance.

            “The only thing I’ve ever loved is skating,” Yuuri stared out over the ice as he spoke, his voice steadier than he’d heard it in a long time, “it’s the only thing I’ve ever associated with love or happiness.”

            He turned to face Victor and smiled softly when he saw him staring back at him.

            “The way I feel about you…it-it’s bigger than that,” he continued, feeling his smile grow bigger, “it’s stronger and deeper than that. It’s an alien feeling to me. So, if what I feel for you…if this is…love…then I want to share it with the world. I want to prove it to the world. I want to be with you at the Grand Prix Final and show the whole world how much I love you!”

            Victor kept his hands over his mouth, awestruck. His heart felt like it had swollen and was about to burst as he watched Yuuri’s face begin to glow as he made his declaration, almost shouting the last part into the dark.

            Just when he thought Yuuri couldn’t get any more beautiful, he went and upped the ante!

            Yuuri then chuckled bashfully, scratching the nape of his neck.

            “Well, that is if I can make it past the first stage!”

            “Why wouldn’t you? You’re an amazing skater!”

            Yuuri scoffed. “Yeah – when I’m pretending to be you! My own routine sucks!”

            Victor propped his elbows on his knees and leant his chin into his palms. “Can I see it?”

            “Seriously?” Yuuri could hardly contain his excitement when Victor nodded. He was actually going to skate for Victor Nikiforov!

            Victor grinned as Yuuri scurried back onto the ice; he hadn’t looked this excited in any of the videos that he had seen. So this was a good start.

            Once Yuuri completed his routine, Victor clapped enthusiastically.

            “That was amazing!” he cheered.

            Yuuri huffed darkly. “Please! I fell over twice and I totally fluffed that triple axel!”

            “So you made a few mistakes,” Victor said flippantly, “it’s not the end of the world. You could get through on performance value alone, even if your technical score is low - ”

            “And that’s the way to prove my love, is it?” Yuuri snapped, “scraping through by the skin of my teeth?”

            That made Victor stop and think for a moment. Yuuri saw something shift in his demeanour; he went rigid, like he was a coiled spring ready to bounce.

            “Okay,” Victor said brightly, “what if I coached you?”

            Yuuri felt himself choke on his own tongue.

            “Yes!” Victor said excitedly, “That’s what we’ll do! We can meet here every night after everyone goes home and we can work on your programs together. But we have to make sure that nobody finds out – oh, I can’t _wait_ to see the look on everyone’s faces when we make it to the Final! Oh, what if we came up with a routine of our own? Can you imagine how people will freak out if we performed together?”

            Yuuri quickly pinched his arm, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Victor Nikiforov was going to coach him. He was going to compete and train with Victor Nikiforov!

            Victor turned back to him, a sweet smile playing on his lips. He leant against the barrier and gestured for Yuuri to come to him, which he did quickly. As soon as he was close enough, Victor laced his fingers with Yuuri’s.

            “Of course, I do have some conditions.” He said playfully.

            Yuuri raised a sceptical eyebrow, but his small smile betrayed his curiosity. “I’m listening.”

            “One: you cannot tell a soul what we’re doing. Not your family, not your coach.”

            Yuuri nodded; that was easy.

            “Two: you have to do exactly as I say. I may not have coached anyone before, but I do know what it takes to win a gold medal, so I expect you to listen and not argue.”

            Yuuri frowned a little but nodded again; he was determined to show that he was capable of being more than just the dime-a-dozen skater that everyone thought him to be.

            “Is there a third condition?” he asked apprehensively.

            Victor nodded, a flirty smile on his soft lips. “Oh, yes there is.”

            Yuuri swallowed nervously, unable to take his eyes off those lips.

            Victor leaned a little closer to whisper. “Three: can I get a goodnight kiss every night?”

            Yuuri beamed, a breathless laugh rushing past his lips.

            Now _that_ was a condition he’d gladly accept!

***

            A couple of hours later, as they finally left, Victor and Yuuri lingered at the main entrance, fingers laced together. They had worked on Yuuri’s routine for the next day and, for the first time since arriving in Verona, Yuuri felt confident that he would do well.

            The cool night air teased the hairs on the back of his neck and he shivered. Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s neck and pulled him in for a warm, tender kiss.

            ‘I am _never_ going to get used to him kissing me!’ Yuuri thought, giddy.

            ‘I am _never_ going to get enough of his kisses!’ Victor sighed dreamily to himself.

            “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” Yuuri asked against his lips.

            “Yes, we are.” Victor smiled, touching his forehead to Yuuri’s.

            Yuuri smiled for a second before turning his gaze to the street. He knew that once they stepped away from the arena, he would have to go one way to his hotel and Victor would have to go in the opposite direction. He didn’t like it.

            “You do know that, from tomorrow, we’re rivals again.” His voice came out muted and thick.

            “Only for appearances’ sake,” Victor shrugged before pecking Yuuri’s cheek, smiling at the soft blush that arose, “but we know the truth; tomorrow, no one can stop us! We’re going to change the world!”

            Yuuri laughed and fought the urge to roll his eyes; that sounded so melodramatic!

            But he felt his heart flutter when he saw the determined flash in Victor’s dazzling eyes.

            “You and me, Yuuri – we are going to make history!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stage is set for the Grand Prix to finally begin, and our young lovers must prepare for what lies ahead.
> 
> Anybody else excited yet??!! 
> 
> Please let me know how I'm doing <3<3


	13. Peace? I Fucking Hate The Word!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cast all come together for the first time for the Press Conference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can guess from the chapter title who has a bit more of the limelight, award yourself a Kudos XD
> 
> (Editor's note: I know, in the anime, Minami is older than Yuri P, but who actually believed that??? So, purely for the sake of my story, Minami and Yuri are the same age. I apologise in advance to Minami fans, but promise the age will only make his skating cuter once the GP gets underway <3)

            Yuuri could hardly contain his excitement. He felt like he’d drunk ten energy drinks, he was so on edge. Of course, the fact that he couldn’t have had more than three hours sleep probably didn’t help.

            But, for once, his insomnia had not been entirely caused by his anxiety (though it had played a minor role); he had laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, with the largest, goofiest grin on his face as replayed last night’s wonderful story in his head.

            He had met Victor Nikiforov. Talked with him. Skated with him. Kissed him!

            ‘Oh sweet mother of god, I kissed him!’ the giddy thought had made his heart skip every time, ‘and he kissed me! He said he loved me!’

            _What the hell did I do to deserve to be this happy?!_

But now he was wishing that he had had at least one more hour’s sleep, just so he could pretend that his nerves weren’t shot to pieces.

            He was with his team, waiting in their changing room at the arena for the press conference to start. It was going to be his first official appearance as a member of Team Capulet, his first appearance in the World Grand Prix, and he wanted to make a good impression.

            He was sure someone would see that his heart was hammering in his chest, and he hoped they would put it down to his nerves about his debut rather than the real reason; he was only a few minutes away from seeing Victor again. The fact that he was in a secret relationship with his biggest rival made it even more exciting and he couldn’t stop the sly smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth or the rosy blush that bloomed on his cheeks.

            Yuuko noticed him blushing and rested her hand on his shoulder.

            “You feeling alright, Yuuri?” she asked softly, not sure if she should make Minako aware of the slight sheen of sweat on her best friend’s forehead. She knew Yuuri hated it when people stared at him when he was having an anxiety attack.

            Yuuri snapped himself out of his daydream (reluctantly) and quickly nodded.

            He glanced around the changing room to see if anyone else had noticed his awkward behaviour; thankfully, everyone seemed to be locked in their own heads too. Michele and Sara were sat next to each other on the long bench; though neither were looking at or talking to each other, their hands gripped each other’s tight. Yurio was scrolling on his phone – no doubt checking what his followers were posting as they waited for the press conference to start – and if his foot hadn’t been twitching relentlessly, Yuuri would have been convinced that the teenager was totally relaxed. Minako and Celestino were stood apart from the group, whispering, probably discussing some last-minute points about the upcoming interview.

            Celestino then turned to them all and cleared his throat, bringing their eyes to him.

            “Alright, everyone,” he spoke clearly, confidence oozing out of him, “you all know how this goes; Escales will introduce you all, officially start the Grand Prix, we answer a few questions – as civilly as we can” he added quickly, with a sly glance at Yurio, “and then it’s game time. So let’s show them who’s the better team - Montague Corp may have more skaters, but we have the best!”

            Yurio smirked coolly at that last comment.

            Minako laid her eyes on Yuuri, who tensed a little. “Yuuri, don’t be surprised if they focus on your debut – just remember, we’re here for you, so if you feel like you’re struggling, let us know.”

            “And if any of those Montague assholes so much as look as you funny, I’ll knock them out!” Yurio added hotly, making Minako chuckle. Yuuri smiled – he was beginning to see that, behind the scowl and the harsh tongue, Yurio was actually quite protective and caring (in the same way a lion protects his pride, he thought warmly). Yuuri nodded in his direction in silent thanks.

            He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that. And just like that, the excitement that was threatening to jump out of him was twisted into worry, setting in a hard lump in his gut.

            A quiet knock made everyone flinch. Celestino answered it. A young woman in a smart grey suit smiled at him. Yuuri spotted the earphone and microphone pinned to her blouse.

            Celestino nodded and smiled. He turned to face his team, rubbing his hands together.

            “Okay, guys. It’s time.”

***

            Meanwhile, in Montague Corp’s changing room, Victor was sat in a corner, an inane grin plastered on his face as he hummed to himself. He had spent the entire night reliving his kisses with Yuuri in his dreams and had woken up with a spring in his step. He hadn’t felt this carefree since he was a child!

            “Victor!”

            Yakov’s harsh tone made him turn to his coach. He smirked at the shade of puce in his wrinkled face and the throbbing vein in his left temple; the season hadn’t even officially started yet, and Yakov was stressing out already.

            “Yes?” Victor replied sweetly, knowing full well that it wound up Yakov even more.

            “Are you even listening to me?”

            “Of course I am!” Victor feigned upset, pressing his fingertips to his chest.

            “Okay – what did I say?” Yakov folded his arms across his chest, eyes narrowing.

            “Don’t say anything stupid at the press conference, keep all answers related to the competition, and don’t fall for any Team Capulet bullshit.” Victor relayed with perfect precision, batting his eyelashes innocently – see, I was listening, they said.

            ‘Just like you said last year. And the year before.’ He sniggered to himself.

            Yakov huffed and Victor thought the vein in his head was going to pop.

            “I just hope you’re prepared,” Lilia’s cold voice made Victor shiver, like someone had poured ice down his back, “your practice yesterday afternoon was lacklustre, to say the least.”

            Victor beamed at her, his famous smile flashing.

            “Who knows? Maybe I’ve finally found my inspiration!”

            His heart was skipping; Yuuri was somewhere in the arena. He was going to see his Yuuri very soon. And just the thought of seeing him again, of sneaking a smile in his direction, maybe even blow him a kiss, gave him a bigger thrill than he thought possible!

            Chris raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. He answered it with a wink and a bright grin.

            “Oh?” Chris drawled, smirking, “could this “inspiration” be the reason behind your little disappearing act last night?”

            Victor said nothing, but the rosy flush that spread on his cheeks gave his friend the answer he wanted. Chris squealed excitedly.

            “Spill! I need details!”

            But before Victor could open his mouth, Lilia ushered them out of the changing room, barking a harsh command in Russian.

            Victor took a deep breath as he walked down the corridor to the conference room, steadying himself. He told himself to keep his composure; Yuuri was counting on him to keep their secret until the GPF and he would make him proud of him.

            Even though he was cheering internally.

***

            The conference room was much larger than any Yuuri had been in during his career and he felt overwhelmed by just how many people were there; photographers clambered over each other, their camera flashes blinding him; reporters took up the first several rows of plastic seats that were set up, watching him enter like he was already performing for them. It made him feel exposed.

            He spotted his parents, Mari, Yuuko and Takeshi in the first row behind the reporters and he offered them a weak smile as they brightly waved at him. Behind them were men in sharp suits and women in designer dresses; representatives of sponsors, making sure that their money had been well-spent. Yuuri gulped thickly under their hard gazes, even though he knew he wasn’t the only one they were keeping an eye on. Then there were local dignitaries – important businessmen and council members, the public image of Verona clear for the world to see.

            So many eyes. So many expectations.

            Yuuri was brought out of his spiral by a sharp nudge to his shoulder. Yurio was glaring at him through his golden hair, the message clear as he nodded his head towards the raised podium, a long table stretched over it.

            _Keep it together, man._

Yuuri released a shaky breath and nodded back at Yurio; he was okay. Yurio narrowed his eyes, not completely convinced, but shrugged and continued to walk to the podium.

            The long table was covered in three silk tablecloths, separating the teams; royal blue on one side, ruby red on the other and emerald green in the middle. Tiny name-cards were set in front of each chair, next to a bottle of water. Without looking, Yuuri knew he was to be sat closest to the centre, being the newest member of the team. Minako sat between him and Yurio. Then it was Sara, then Michele, with Celestino at the end of the table.

            On his right-hand side, Yuuri saw he was sitting next to a young man with chestnut-coloured skin and short jet-black hair. He couldn’t have been much younger than himself, but he wasn’t a teenager like Yurio. The lad caught him staring and smiled at him.

            “You’re Yuuri Katsuki, right?” a soft, warm voice came from that smile and Yuuri immediately felt at ease when he sensed there was no hostility. He nodded, his nerves still keeping a chokehold on his vocal chords.

            The young man offered his hand to him – something the photographers immediately spotted, judging by the bursts of light that blotted Yuuri’s vision.

            “Nice to meet you. I’m Phichit.” The lad – Phichit – beamed.

            Yuuri accepted the hand and shook it, his smile growing as he relaxed.

            “So you’re an Independent?” he asked dumbly, not sure how to start a conversation.

            “Wow, you figured that out all on your own? You should be a detective!” Phichit’s sarcasm made Yuuri chuckle – he already liked this guy!

            The conversation was cut short by a collective murmur as Montague Corp walked into the room. Yuuri felt his cheeks begin to flush and he forced himself to stay grounded as his eyes washed over the procession of red-and-white tracksuits until they landed on a flash of silver. Sapphire eyes quickly followed and his heart skipped a beat.

            Victor.

            Victor saw Yuuri stare at him and bit down the smile that was aching to burst onto his face, but he was sure his eyes were shining as his heart hummed. He decided at the last moment to wink at his secret lover as he took his seat, thrilled at the sudden bloom of red on Yuuri’s cheeks.

            ‘This is going to be harder than I thought.’ Both men mused as they forced themselves to turn their heads to the crowd before them.

            Yakov sat next to Victor. Chris, Mila, Georgi, Anya, a small Japanese boy with wild blonde hair with a shock of bright red in the middle of his forehead and a straight-backed Asian young man with cold eyes completed the team, with Lilia sat at the far end of the table.

            Next to Phichit was the previous year’s silver medallist, Jean-Jacques Leroy, who hadn’t stopped grinning at the press since he’d first stepped foot in the room. Yuuri vaguely remembered seeing him at the rink yesterday afternoon during his practise session, but he hadn’t been told why he was there.

            ‘Probably checking out the competition.’ He shrugged.

            Next to JJ was a smaller young man with olive skin, his dark hair shaved close at his temples. He hadn’t spoken to anyone yet, but had sat down straight away, hands clasped loosely together on the table.

            Anton Escales, dressed in a charcoal pin-striped suit, stepped onto the podium to a warm applause, his smile set in an easy grin. The microphone pinned to his lapel carried his rich voice across the room.

                “Signore e signori, mesdames et messieurs, dami i gospoda, minisama, ladies and gentlemen,” Escales said with a wave of his arm, addressing the room like it was the easiest thing in the world, “it gives me great pleasure to welcome you to Verona, for what I’m sure will be a historic and unforgettable World Grand Prix!”

            ‘Let’s just hope it’s for the right reasons.’ He thought as the room applauded again, keeping his smile in place.

            “Shall we get things started, then?” he rubbed his hands together and paused to allow for the chuckle that vibrated in the room, “allow me to introduce this season’s talent, starting with last year’s winning team – Montague Corp. Representing in the women’s division: Mila and Anya,” Escales paused as the two women politely stood and smiled for the awaiting cameras, “representing in his first Senior division after his amazing Junior season last year, Minami Kenjirou from Japan,” the blonde-and-red-haired boy jumped up and beamed excitedly at the crowd, much to the chagrin of Lilia, “and allow me to welcome to Montague Corp, from Korea, Seung-Gil Lee, also representing in the Senior division,” the Asian young man stood and bowed curtly before sitting back down.

            ‘Happy chap!’ Victor thought drolly.

            Escales seemed just as surprised by Seung-Gil’s chilly demeanour, judging by how he cleared his throat to continue.

            “Time for some familiar faces, I think. I’m sure I don’t need to introduce the rest of Montague Corp – the amazing Georgi Popovich,” Georgi stood with a flourish, waving majestically, “the…enigmatic…Christophe Giacometti, who I’m sure you’ll remember took home the bronze medal last year,” the room chuckled at that remark as Chris winked and blew a kiss for the photographers, “and finally, last year’s gold-medallist, reigning Champion and record-holder – Victor Nikiforov!”

            The room filled with rapturous applause as Victor flashed his thousand-watt smile and Yuuri only just managed to stop himself from joining the applause in time. He didn’t need to look over to know that Yurio was glaring at him as he repositioned his hands on the table.

            Escales held his hands up, signalling that he was ready to continue.

            “Next, we have Team Capulet. Representing in the Women’s division, please welcome last year’s winner, Sara Crispino,” Sara stood and smiled, casting a smug glance over to Mila and Anya, who returned her look with dark scowls, “and her twin brother, representing in the Senior division, Michele,” Michele beamed at the camera and grabbed his sister in a one-armed hug, their image of family love always a paparazzi favourite, “and representing in his first Senior division following his gold-medal winning Junior season last year, Yuri Plisetsky!”

            It was the first time Yuuri saw a smile on Yurio’s face as he stood, confidence flowing out of every pore like air.

            Even Escales seemed to genuinely smile at Yurio – perhaps he admired the teenager’s abilities, despite his troublemaking – before his eyes fell on Yuuri, making his stomach clench.

            “And introducing, in not only his Team Capulet debut, but his Grand Prix debut, all the way from Hasetsu, Japan – Yuuri Katsuki!”

            Yuuri fumbled to his feet and waved weakly. The camera flashes were blinding him again and he could just about make out the cheers coming from his family. A gentle tug from Minako guided him back to his seat and he breathed a loud sigh of relief when he felt his rear hit the plastic without falling.

            Chris glanced across to Victor, who was clapping as Yuuri stood. Victor felt his gaze and shrugged at his friend.

            “No harm in being polite at this point.” He whispered innocently, inwardly scolding himself for already forgetting his pact with Yuuri.

            Mila seemed to be staring hard at Yuuri, her eyes narrowing for a moment. Then she gasped as the penny dropped.

            “Hey! If it isn’t my dancing partner!” she said brightly, a mischievous smile illuminating her face, “So, who are you pretending to be today?”

            Yuuri was about to laugh at the joke once he realised that she was the “wood nymph” from the club, when Yurio leaned over the table, dark eyes flashing in her direction.

            “Shut your face right now, you old hag!” he snarled. Minako put a warning hand on his shoulder, pushing him firmly back into his seat, but the cameras had already started flashing again, eager to catch the first confrontation of the season.

            Escales nervously adjusted his tie and cleared his throat, hoping to regain control of the conference before things got out of hand.

            “So…this year we have not one, but three Independents joining the tournament,” this created a buzz in the room, much to Escales’ relief, “from Kazakhstan, Otabek Altin,” the olive-skinned young man stood and bowed, not as curtly as Seung-Gil, but Yuuri noticed the tension in his shoulders, “from Thailand, Phichit Chulanont,” Yuuri couldn’t help but smile as Phichit bounced out of his seat to regally bow to the crowd, his smile infectious.

            “And, last but by no means least, last year’s silver medallist, from Canada – Jean-Jacques Leroy.”

            The room filled with applause and warm laughter as JJ stood to strike his signature “JJ” pose. The other skaters, however, slumped in their chairs, and Yuuri realised with a bolt of shock that everyone seemed to dislike the Canadian.

            “Saved the best for last, eh, Anton?” JJ chortled, much to Escales’ surprise. “If I could have everyone’s attention for a moment, please - ”

            “Only for a moment? Promises, promises, JJ!” Mila quipped coolly. The reporters laughed at the sarcasm; Yuuri felt the cold slap of her words as if they were directed at him.

            JJ either ignored her or didn’t hear her. “I have an exciting announcement to make! At the end of the season - ”

            “You’re retiring!” Chris interrupted hopefully, making his fellow teammates snigger behind their hands.

            “You’re coming out of the closet!” Georgi quipped. This time some reporters and photographers began to chuckle as well.

            “You’re having a sex change and want to be called “JJ the Queen!” Yurio got the biggest laugh, and felt it was worth the dig in his ribs from Minako.

            JJ’s famous smile faltered a little with the interruptions, but he persevered. “As I was saying – at the end of the season, when I win the gold medal, I will be starting my own skating team.”

            He grinned like the cat who got the cream as cameras flashed at him and a ripple of curiosity flowed through the room. He glanced at either side of him to the other skaters and his grin only grew wider at the incredulous looks on their faces.

            He spread his hands wide to them. “Fear not, friends! You’re all more than welcome to join my team – I don’t play favourites.” His voice was light; Victor felt a sudden urge to gag.

            “You arrogant dickhead!” Yurio scoffed.

            Despite Minako venomously shushing the teenager, Yuuri noticed how all the other skaters seemed to smirk at his outburst; clearly, he had said what they were all thinking, himself included.

            Victor chuckled. “I think I must congratulate you, JJ,” he said warmly, making the Canadian turn to him, “it seems you’ve singlehandedly ended the feud – by giving us all a common enemy!”

            The room vibrated with laughter as Victor flashed his famous smile again at JJ, who sat back down with a huff, his face burning with humiliation. Yuuri quickly glanced over at Victor and caught how his jaw was stiff as he smiled; perhaps there was more truth in that joke than everyone thought.

            Escales felt a sheen of sweat form on his brow – he could feel the tension between the skaters and was dreading what would happen next as he opened the floor for questions.

            A man with sandy hair and a British accent stood up.

            “Mister Katsuki, do you feel ready for the immense pressure that comes with the Grand Prix? Have you combatted the nerves that caused your poor performance last season?”

            Victor frowned at the reporter and clenched his fists.

            ‘I’d like to see _you_ get on the ice in front of thousands of people and not land on your ass!’ he thought furiously.

            It was like the reporter could read Yuuri’s mind as he felt his chest tighten, as if on cue.

            “Umm…err…I…”

            The words wouldn’t come out. They were right there, on his tongue, but he couldn’t push them out. His vision began to blur as his breathing became ragged.

            _Not now! Shit! Not now – please!_

Quick as a flash, Minako was on her feet, crouching low to whisper in Yuuri’s ear, her arm wrapped protectively round his shoulder.

            “Breathe, Yuuri,” she soothed, her hands rubbing in slow, circular motions, “it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here. It’s alright, Yuuri. Just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. That’s good, Yuuri. You’re doing great! One more deep breath for me.”

            Yuuri stared into his coach’s warm eyes as his lungs caught up with him. She smiled at him reassuringly and patted his trembling hands, but it didn’t get rid of the tight knot in his gut.

            ‘So much for making a good first impression.’ He thought bitterly.

            Celestino cleared his throat, drawing attention away from Yuuri. “Let me reassure everyone here, once Yuuri takes to the ice, he will prove all his doubters wrong.”

            Yuuri wondered if Celestino counted himself amongst his doubters.

            Chris leaned towards Georgi, a sly smile tugging his glossed lips to one side. “I think there are more people who doubt his sexuality more than his skating. Oops! Is this still on?” he gestured at the microphone on the table and fluttered his eyelashes innocently. Georgi grinned next to him.

            Victor, on the other hand, stiffened. While he was used to Chris’ lewd sense of humour, how the Swiss man enjoyed making people uncomfortable, he was _not_ happy about him making Yuuri his next target.

            His Yuuri was off-limits!

            Yurio seemed to share the sentiment. He stood up and glared openly at Chris, fisted clenched.

            “Button it, faggot!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

            “Takes one to know one, darling!” Chris puckered his lips and winked at the teenager.

            Yurio’s face paled and he balked. He took a step forward, his features twisted in disgust, but Minako’s hands flew from around Yuuri to Yurio’s chest, pushing him back into his seat.

            “Remember what we talked about!” she declared. Yurio snarled at her, but he stayed sat down, so it was a small victory.

            Georgi leaned back in his chair to glower at the teenager.

            “You’re a disgrace to your country, Plisetsky, skating for Team Capulet!” the venom in his voice slid across the room like a snake, making Yurio’s already-twisted face darken even more.

            He stood up again and managed to get as far as standing behind Yuuri’s chair before Minako grabbed his arm. She was harshly whispering to him, but he paid no attention to her.

            “This team has been more of a family to me than my so-called “country”, shithead!” he spat at Georgi in contempt, his chest puffed out.

            “Vash ded pozorit yego stranu!”

            Victor gasped, shaken by the malice in Georgi’s voice. He had never heard the normally-placid man say anything so cruel.

            “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY ABOUT MY GRANDFATHER, YOU SON OF A BITCH?”

            Yuuri felt his chair tip backwards as Yurio’s hand, the one that was gripping the plastic, pushed down as he launched himself at the other Russian man. Screaming profanities in both English and Russian, the teenager grabbed Georgi by the front of his shirt to drag him out of his seat. Georgi grabbed Yurio’s arms and attempted to prize himself out of his grip, yelling at him. Yurio brought his head back sharply and slammed his forehead onto Georgi’s nose, making the older man cry out in pain.

            “You’ll pay for that, you little punk!” he snarled as he wrapped his hand round Yurio’s throat, lifting him off his feet. It made Yurio loosen his grip on Georgi’s shirt as he gasped in shock; it was enough to allow Georgi to throw the boy backwards, making him land on top of a dazed Yuuri.

            Minako and Celestino grappled with Yurio, who was trying desperately to get back to Georgi, despite his coaches’ tight hold on his arms. Victor stood up and placed his hand firmly on Georgi’s chest, throwing a warning look.

            “You’ve made your point, _comrade_.” He didn’t even try to hide the sneer as he spat out the last word. It made Georgi stare at him vehemently.

            Yuuri stared up at the ceiling, terrified of moving. He could hear Yurio screeching insults at Georgi, demanding that Celestino and Minako let go of him. He could see the constant flash of cameras. He felt himself slipping into a spiral of bright lights and shrieks.

            A hand grabbed his and pulled him to his feet. He was surprised to see that it belonged to Phichit, who smiled reassuringly as he dusted him down.

            “Is it always like this?” the Thai lad asked, brows furrowed.

            “I hope not!” Yuuri sighed.

            Escales called for security and Yuuri felt himself being pulled away from Phichit by a muscular man dressed in black. That was when he noticed several men, dressed identically, position themselves between the three clusters of skaters.

            “The press conference is over!” Escales shouted over the buzz of the reporters, “all skaters are to be escorted to their designated changing rooms immediately! Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise for the abrupt end to our proceedings, but I feel it’s best for our competitors to prepare for tonight’s First Heat.”

            Phichit cast one last look at Yuuri before he was led away. “See you on the ice!” he called cheerfully; anyone would have thought it was totally normal to be escorted from a fight, if they heard the light lilt in his voice.

            Yuuri’s eyes quickly searched for Victor as he felt himself being pushed in the direction of the door and found that he was looking for him too. Yuuri saw the worry in those beautiful blue eyes and felt his heart twist. He wanted to call out to him, to tell him that he was alright and ask him if he was okay, but he knew he couldn’t. He just hoped his eyes conveyed his message for him.

            It seemed to do the trick. Victor seemed to release a sigh of relief and sent him the tiniest of smiles, but as far as Yuuri was concerned, it might as well have been a grin.

            Victor was okay. So he was okay too. That was enough for now.

            Escales slumped into a chair as the press and guests were escorted out of the room by his PR team with sweet apologies and promises of an exciting first stage later that evening.

            ‘They can’t even make it through one interview without lashing out!’ he thought dismally, running his fingers through his hair.

            It didn’t look like his threat had had any effect. He just prayed that the competition would go underway without any more drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Grand Prix is about to begin!!! 
> 
> Tickets are one kudos each - to be paid in advance XD
> 
> Hope to see you for the drama!!
> 
> Leave a comment, they make my day xxxx


	14. From Ancient Grudge Break To New Mutiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first round of the First Heat begins, starting this year's Grand Prix...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted a playlist on YouTube to go with this story :D  
> I'll be adding to the playlist every time I reference a song - hopefully this will give you an idea of how I pictured my cast as I wrote this:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vKPGxGCFgTs&index=7&list=PLEnkKaNTEz3S7P8JcDQHWNF1O2nrxlSCa
> 
> ***
> 
> I want to clear something up from the last chapter:  
> I received a comment regarding a certain word I used. I want to make it perfectly clear that I used the word to highlight a character's immature attitude; it is in NO WAY, SHAPE OR FORM is a reflection of my own personal opinions or feelings!  
> Now, I could have easily re-edited the chapter to delete the word, but that would be like pretending it had never happened, and I'm a firm believer in learning from mistakes.  
> So, after asking around (big thanks to OrchidQueen and BellaBear13 for your insight) I want to promise that the word will not appear in this story, or any other that I write, ever again. I apologise from the bottom of my heart for any offense that I may have caused - that was honestly never my intention! 
> 
> For those of you who continue to read this story, I thank you wholeheartedly for your support. It truly means the world to me and I hope that you will enjoy the rest of my story <3<3
> 
> ***
> 
> And to complete my notes sandwich XD :
> 
> I'm doing a Peter Jackson, and making a cameo appearance in my own fanfic :D see if you can spot me... xxx

            “Welcome to the opening night of this year’s World Grand Prix, brought to you from fair Verona,” an overly-cheerful man in a blue suit called from the commentator’s box, his voice through the loudspeakers barely audible over the ear-splitting cheers of the crowd, “and we have been told to expect the most exciting season to date!”

            “That’s right, John,” a fair-haired plump woman with oval glasses beamed at her co-presenter, “and, as you can no doubt hear, the crowd here is already going crazy!”

            Yuuri was sure the glass ceiling was beginning to vibrate as the audience cheered even louder, applauding and stamping their feet with excitement. He felt like the cheers were squeezing all the air out of the arena, making his lungs contract. Only Yuuko’s hand on his shoulder, applying a reassuring amount of pressure as she sat next to him in Team Capulet’s designated box, kept him from spiralling.

            “Absolutely, Laura,” the commentator called John chuckled, “and I can’t say I blame them! This year’s line-up is a collection of stars and diamonds-in-the-rough – only time will tell which shines the brightest!”

            Laura laughed just a little bit too loudly at that well-rehearsed joke.

            Yuuri couldn’t tear his eyes away from the crowd; there wasn’t a single empty seat. Thousands of screaming, cheering, jeering spectators from all over the world, some waving homemade banners, some waving official team flags, were impatiently awaiting the first skater. He could see several men dressed in black with earpieces positioned at every entrance and at either side of each team’s area; he hadn’t seen such a high level of security for a competition before.

            He wondered, with a nervous swallow, who they were there to protect; the skaters, the fans or the officials.

            ‘Probably all and none.’ He thought glumly.

            It had been decided before they had all arrived in Verona that the honour of being the first skater, hereby starting the Grand Prix, would go to the youngest member of last year’s winning team: Minami Kenjirou.

            Dressed in a white shirt and black trousers with a yellow stripe up each leg, a black and glittery-gold vest, red braces and a red bowtie, deliberately left undone to hang casually around the young boy’s neck, Minami looked like he’d stepped out of a jazz club onto the ice. A confident smile shone on his fresh face, revealing a fanged tooth that refused to stay behind his lips.

            ‘I’m going to prove that I’m not a Junior anymore.’ The Japanese boy thought, with a self-sure nod as he stood in the centre of the ice, waiting for the music to start.

            “This is Minami Kenjirou’s first Senior Grand Prix. I can only imagine the nerves the young man must be feeling!” Laura muttered over the awed hush of the crowd.

            ‘Nerves? Hah!’ Minami smirked, waving his finger to the sound team, signalling for them to start.

            An upbeat jazz number blasted over the sound system and the audience immediately began to clap in time with the drumbeat. Minami could feel his heart strum in time with the Double Bass, every nerve in his body singing in time with the electric guitar.

            “Minami is skating to an original piece called “Minami’s Boogie” and – boy! – can this kid boogie?” John beamed as Minami flung himself around the ice, grinning ecstatically to the cheering crowd.

            ‘This is why I love swing music!’ Minami thought with a grin as he perfectly landed his first jump - a triple axel - much to the thrill of the audience.

            Minami beamed as he flowed effortlessly into a quadruple toe loop. He was so confident he even cheekily winked as he skated past the judges’ box! But perhaps he became too cocky; he mis-stepped out of a jump and almost fell, his hand glazing over the ice. His smile faltered for a moment – that would have surely cost him a few points – but he brushed himself off and moved on to his step sequence, which was a series of high kicks and swinging hip-turns.

            Yuuri felt his jaw hang slack at the energetic program; it was lively, fun, effortless. The fact that Minami was barely out of the Junior division only made it even more impressive.

            _He’s how many years younger than you? And he’s already so much better than you!_

Yuuri shook his head, trying to rattle that evil voice out of his mind so he could focus on the competition. He needed to know what he would be up against, what he had to beat.

            What he had to overcome to prove his love.

            Victor smiled warmly as his youngest teammate held the audience captivated. Sitting next to him, Mila was cheering for the young boy, Chris was whistling and clapping with gusto and Georgi’s fist pumped the air every time Minami landed his jumps. Victor could easily say this about Montague Corp – they were a family. They took care of each other, supported each other and woe betide anyone who upset their little unit.

            He had always felt proud of their strong bond. But after what happened at the press conference, he was beginning to see a larger, colder picture; a picture that could surely mean a rip in that bond if any of them found out about him and Yuuri.

            He sighed deeply and decided to keep his focus on Minami. He would worry about his friends finding out about his boyfriend another time.

            That thought jarred in his head – _boyfriend_? - and felt his cheeks burn. He hadn’t exactly asked Yuuri last night what the status of their relationship was (his mouth had been too busy kissing!), but he was pretty sure he would feel the same way.

            ‘Still…it would be nice to hear him say it out loud.’ He thought, catching his lower lip between his teeth.

            Chris spotted the nervous motion and nudged Victor’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry so much, Victor. Minami’s got them eating out of his hand!”

            Victor smiled at Chris and nodded enthusiastically, inwardly chiding himself for letting himself get distracted by thoughts of Yuuri. Again.

            He smiled to himself for the millionth time. It was just too easy!

            As Minami struck his final pose – a brush of his hand over his sweating brow into a cheerful salute to the audience, a modest (and exhausted) smile shining on his face - the crowd jumped to their feet to applaud. He thrusted both arms up in the air, cheering with so much adrenaline, Victor thought he might take off and fly!

            Minami made his way to the Kiss & Cry to an awaiting Yakov and Lilia and sat on the padded bench between them after picking up a plush toy that a fan had flung at him. He hugged the cuddly toy to his chest as the judges began to tally their scores.

            The electronic scoreboard flashed “95.7” in red digits.

            Minami jumped to his feet and cheered, bowing to his cheering fans. Yakov and Lilia merely clapped stoically. Victor frowned at their lacklustre response; 95.7 was an impressive score for the first round, especially when Minami’s age, inexperience in the Senior division and the fact that he was the first skater of the season was all taken into consideration. But Yakov and Lilia had always been hard on their skaters, preferring to drill them rather than nurture them.

            It might have made them stronger skaters, but Victor wondered if it had made them weaker people.

            “Wow!” John exclaimed from the commentator’s box, a huge beam plastered on his face, “what a way to open the Grand Prix! I don’t know about you, Laura, but I’m in the mood for dancing.”

            Laura laughed at her co-host. “Maybe later, John. We still have so much to look forward to. And without any further ado, up next is the Italian Stallion from Team Capulet – Michele Crispino!”

            Michele blushed a little at that nickname; his fans had dubbed him that after someone (probably Yurio!) posted a photo of him online at the end of the previous season; he had been hanging out with Sara and the Russian teenager at a funfair and had been dared to go on one of those mechanical bulls. He had thought he looked cool as he clung on for dear life as the robotic beast bucked underneath him.

            Until the tagline “Giddy Up! #ItalianStallion” had gone viral.

            He huffed out a breath and took his starting position; one hand pointing in the air, his forefinger reaching skyward, the other set loosely on his jutting hip. He was wearing a red shirt with gold sequins along his plunging neckline and billowing sleeves, with matching flared trousers over his shiny black skates.

            “I’m guessing we’re in for some disco music.” John’s voice drawled over the sound system.

            “No shit, Sherlock!” Yurio called out, a hum of giggles echoed around the arena. Michele smirked; trust Yurio to break the tension with a swear word. Still, he appreciated the support of his teammate.

            Laura attempted to recover the mood after Yurio’s outburst with a forced laugh. “Yes, well, you were right, John. Michele is skating to the disco tune “We Are Family” – no doubt a tribute to his twin sister and fellow teammate, Sara.”

            Sara groaned in their designated area and ran her hand across her eyes. As much as she loved Mikey, surely they were getting too old for this schmaltzy brotherly/sisterly love spectacle?

            Apparently, Michele didn’t seem to think so, judging from the broad smile on his face as the music began.

            ‘Sara, I hope you’re watching.’ He thought as he spun on his right leg, kicking out his left in a stylised spin in time with the bassline as he moved into a triple Lutz – triple loop combination, his signature move. He smiled as the audience applauded, relaxing into the rhythm of the music.

            As the lyrics “ _I got all my sisters with me_ ” rang out over the loudspeakers, Michele glided in front of the Team Capulet seating area and waved his hand grandly to Sara, much to her chagrin. Yurio nudged her with his elbow, smirking at the crimson blush on her face.

            “No wonder you keep striking out with guys!” he chuckled.

            “Tell me about it!” she pouted, folding her arms, “how am I ever going to get a boyfriend if he’s still clutching onto my apron strings?”

            “Apron strings? Hell, I don’t think he even let go of your umbilical cord!” Yurio threw his head back with a cold laugh, which made Yuuri flinch next to him. He hadn’t realised that the Crispino twins were at loggerheads, aside from that incident in the club which he had simply put down to Michele being slightly overprotective. But, based on his teammates’ conversation, it looked like the solid family unit that Celestino was working so hard to preserve was showing signs of cracks.

            He sighed as he turned back to continue watching Michele.

            ‘I wonder if Victor’s in the same position as me.’ He mused, risking a glance at Montague Corp’s box. He could see Victor smiling next to Chris, which made him smile a little; if Victor was happy, so was he.

            Even if he knew that they could very well be mocking Michele’s routine.

            Yuuri felt a headache pinch at his temple – the conflicting emotions in his head were starting to chafe his brain.

            Michele seemed to be enjoying himself on the ice. His smile never once faltered as he gracefully moved into a triple salchow. He almost stepped out of a turn too soon, but with an extra flick of his foot he managed to complete the rotation, albeit with a slight wobble. Yuuri saw the judges all scribble on their notepads and frowned, knowing they were going to mark him down for that tiny mistake.

            As the music faded out, Michele slowed into a mirrored position of his starting one, which seemed to make the routine look well-polished. As the crowd began to cheer, he joined Celestino and Minako at the Kiss & Cry. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting Sara to also be there. He seemed downhearted when she remained in her seat, arms still folded in front of her chest.

            He barely registered his score of “97.4” until Minako screeched a cheer in his ear and Celestino slapped his shoulder. When he read his score, his face lit up and he hugged his coaches.

            He ran back to the Team Capulet box, grinning.

            “Sara!” he called excitedly, “did you see that?”

            “I did.” His twin replied coolly.

            “Aren’t you happy for me?” his tone was almost an accusation, “I got almost three more points than that Minami kid!”

            “Yes, whilst making yourself look like a kid in the process!”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            Sara sighed loudly. “Forget it, Mikey.”

            He sat down next to Sara, his brow furrowed with concern. “No, I won’t forget it, Sara. Tell me what I did wrong.”

            “You didn’t _do_ anything wrong!” his sister exclaimed, “you know your program was great! I just wish you’d stop using _me_ as your theme!”

            Michele was about to argue with her when Celestino patted him on the shoulder, signalling for him to give it a rest. He glanced over his shoulder and saw several reporters watching him with peaked curiosity and huffed; he’d put up a united front for now, but he _was_ going to continue this back at the hotel later.

            Yuuri felt a smile break out on his face when he saw that the next skater was Phichit and he applauded along with the rest of the crowd. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about the cheeky smile on the younger lad’s bright face that made him feel completely at ease.

            ‘First Victor had this effect on me, now Phichit,’ he mused, ‘If I’d have known I was going to meet such amazing people, I would have come to the Grand Prix years ago!’

            Victor could see Yuuri’s smile even from where he was sitting and felt his heart jump. He politely applauded Phichit as he waved excitedly at the audience. He had to admit, the Thai boy had bucketloads of charisma.

            ‘Hmm…perhaps I have more than just my Yuuri to compete with this year.’ He thought with a sly smirk.

            Phichit wore a mustard-yellow silk shirt that clung to his lithe stomach with maroon, figure-hugging trousers. His hair, which before had been so floppy it almost hung over his eyes in a bowl-cut, was gelled back and sleek. To complete the outfit, he had winged eyeliner, making his deep eyes stand out even more, and a jewel glued to the centre of his forehead.

            ‘Time to show them what a boy from Thailand can do!’ he thought, his smile set with confidence.

            A fast-paced tempo blasted over the loudspeakers and within seconds the crowd was clapping in time with the beat. Phichit raced around the rink, clapping his hands above his head, beaming.

            “JAI HO!” he yelled along with the singer, punching the air for added emphasis, and the crowd began to scream with excitement. Even Yuuri felt the urge to stand up and dance along with the Bollywood pop song, but thankfully he resisted.

            ‘I’ve made a fool of myself enough this season already!’ he thought, noticing how Mila was staring at him from her seat, a crooked smile on her face as she was, no doubt, remembering his dancing in the club.

            Phichit had gone for a more technical program than Minami and Michele, filled with extremely difficult step sequences and jump combinations; one in particular, a double Lutz – triple axel – triple salchow, made the crowd gasp in awe. Victor saw how Phichit’s jaw jutted slightly on the last jump and thought his fatigue must have been peaking, but the lad quickly recovered as he spun into his next step sequence.

            “I can’t believe it!” John cried out, “is he actually using the dance routine from the music video?”

            Phichit grinned like a Siamese cat. “You bet your ass I am!” he called back as he flung his arms around his head. The arena filled with laughter and whooping calls of excitement.

            He fell to his knees abruptly. At first, Yuuri thought he had tumbled and rose out of his seat. The murmur in the arena suggested that he wasn’t the only one to think so.

            But with a final yell of “JAI HO!” Phichit threw his fists in the air and arched his back until he was almost sitting on the blades of his skates, gasping uncontrollably.

            Yuuri couldn’t believe his eyes. If he had landed on his knees like that, it would have almost certainly been due to a fall, not part of the choreography.

            “The crowd is going wild for the young Independent!” Laura yelled above the screams that filled the arena.

            Phichit sat in the Kiss & Cry, almost buried under a pile of plush toy hamsters that had been flung at him from the nearby spectators. Phichit had picked up every single one and was attempting to keep them all on his lap as the judges prepared their score.

            He dropped them all when he jumped to his feet as his scored flashed onscreen:

            “100.1”

            “Unbelievable!” Laura cheered, “our first score in the one-hundred bracket! Congratulations, Phichit!”

            Phichit winked at the commentator as he made his way to his designated area.

            “Thanks, toots!” he called mischievously, making the plump woman giggle.

            Victor smiled fondly. ‘Did I say “bucketloads of charisma”? Better make that boatloads!’

            Yuuri allowed himself a small cheer in support. Phichit must have heard it because he turned to him and waved enthusiastically, a bright, beaming smile on his tanned face.

            “Good luck, Yuuri!” he called from his seat. Several reporters heard his cry and immediately began scribbling and typing notes, no doubt already making up some daft rumour about the Independent Thai skater and the Japanese representative of Team Capulet.

            Yuuri’s smile faltered and he cast his eyes to his feet.

            ‘Even making friends puts me under the microscope here.’ He thought gloomily.

            Yurio gave him a sharp nudge to his elbow, almost knocking his arm from where he leant on his knee.

            “I keep telling you – just fucking ignore them!” the teenager scowled.

            “Yeah, well, that’s easier said than done!” Yuuri snapped back.

            Yurio turned fully in his seat to face him. “Well you’d better get used to it! Coz from now on, everywhere you go, they’ll be there! Every time we practise, every time we go out to eat – hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if those vultures know when we take a piss! It’s part of the Grand Prix, but it’s _not_ the most important thing. So just fucking ignore them and focus on not landing on your ass out there!”

            Yuuri flinched back, blinking wide at Yurio’s tirade. It was the first time that the teenager had actually aimed one of his outbursts directly at him and, if he was honest, it was frightening! The way his bright green eyes turned dark, how his thin lips curled into a hiss – it was almost like he turned into a cat without the claws (which Yuuri was suddenly very grateful about).

            But he saw something flash behind his dark glower, just for a moment. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked almost like concern.

            This made Yuuri pause for a second; was Yurio genuinely concerned about him? This thought endeared the snapping teenager to him and he answered the hissing with a soft smile.

            “Got it!” he said with a wink. Yurio blinked at him, a blush almost blooming on his cheeks before he turned his back to him in a huff.

            Yuuri turned his attention back to the rink, feeling a little calmer now. He saw the Korean skater from Montague Corp, Seung-Gil Lee, had took his position in the centre of the rink and was waiting patiently to start his program.

            He wore a simple white long-sleeved cotton shirt tucked into khaki-coloured trousers. His pale cheeks were smudged with a streak of black make-up and his black hair was tousled and messy; it almost looked like he’d been in a fight.

            As the first few notes of an electric guitar began to pulse over the loudspeakers, followed by a steady drum beat, Yurio instantly recognised the song “The Eye of the Tiger” and let out an exasperated groan.

            “That’s my fucking favourite song!” he groaned when he saw Minako raise a quizzical eyebrow at him.

            “So I’m guessing it’s not anymore.” She teased, earning the back of her chair a swift kick.

            Yuuri kept his eyes glued on Seung-Gil. He was certainly a technically-gifted skater – his program was filled with triple lutz jumps and toe loops, his step sequences were extremely complicated – but Yuuri felt like something was missing.

            “He looks like a fucking robot!” Yurio smirked, hitting the nail on the head. That was what was missing – there was no emotional connection to the song, making Seung-Gil look like he was merely going through the motions, especially as his stoic expression didn’t change at all.

            It was like he was calculating his Technical score in his head as he skated, rather than paying attention to what he was doing.

            His teammates seemed to be following the same line of thought; Mila and Georgi spent the whole time whispering behind their hands and Yakov and Lilia were quietly arguing between themselves about changes they could make to his program for the following day.

            “He’d better keep a lid on those emotions – god forbid he should let any come out!” Chris drawled sarcastically.

            Victor hummed in agreement; he had been surprised when Yakov had announced Seung-Gil’s contract just before the season started, given that the last time Montague Corp had scouted outside of Europe for new talent had resulted in Minami being selected for the Junior division. But Yakov had assured them that the Korean would fit in perfectly with the rest of them.

            ‘How does this fit in with the rest of us?’ he wondered, ‘he’s just made us all look like a big bunch of drama queens by comparison!’

            He wasn’t surprised when the judges scored him “92.9”, meaning he was trailing far behind. Seung-Gil’s face remained a blank slate as he returned to the team box, Yakov and Lilia left in his wake.

            “Remind me never to play poker with this guy!” Georgi whispered to Mila, a little louder than what could be considered accidental. Sure enough, Seung-Gil turned his head slightly at the comment but didn’t say anything.

            Mila gave Georgi a tiny bump on the arm, her large eyes darting to the back of Seung-Gil’s head, but he just shrugged.

            Victor frowned; Georgi’s attitude since his scrap with Yurio was getting on his nerves, but he wasn’t sure how to address it until they got back to their hotel. There were too many people watching here.

            Besides, it was now Georgi’s turn to skate. His black catsuit with deep blue rhinestones slashing down his chest from his left shoulder glistened under the strong lights as he took to the ice.

            “I believe we have a last-minute change for Georgi’s choice of song.” John said over the loudspeaker.

            “That’s right, John,” Laura replied in her light voice, “he has changed his song to a golden-oldie – “What Becomes Of The Broken-hearted”.”

            A loud groan vibrated from every member of Montague Corp. Mila and Anya snorted derisively and folded their arms. Chris clapped a hand over his eyes and sat back in his chair. Victor pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. Even Minami shook his head sadly.

            “Anya, do us all a favour,” Lilia spoke over her shoulder, her tone colder than the ice that Georgi was currently occupying, “the next time you choose to toy with the boy’s heart, do it at the end of the season rather than the start!”

            “What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” Anya asked incredulously.

            “Because there’s always a next time!” Chris snapped, “you guys are worse than Ross and Rachel!”

            “Who?” Minami asked innocently, frowning.

            Chris groaned dramatically. “Great – now I’m depressed _and_ I feel old! Victor, put me out of my misery now!”

            Victor chuckled. “What, and deprive the world of your first program?”

            “Speaking of which,” Yakov muttered, “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

            Chris gave Yakov a comical salute (once his back was turned) and made his way to the rink with his coaches. When they reached the barrier, Chris went to the left, making his way to the gate that led to the ice, whilst Yakov and Lilia continued to the right towards the Kiss & Cry, where Georgi was already waiting for them.

            The crowd had politely applauded during his performance, but many of his fans were already tweeting their surprise at his choice of song. Apparently, his latest break-up with Anya had only just become public knowledge, and some fans were a bit slow on the uptake. However, as posts were shared, their opinion swiftly changed from surprise to support:

            “He’s so brave to skate his heartbreak xx”

            “Anya’s an idiot – can’t she see how passionate he is?”

            On the flip side, Team Capulet fans were using the information as ammunition to slate the Russian:

            “Might as well just have stood there crying. #BigBaby”

            “I’d dump his ass too if he did this to me!”

            Thankfully the judges weren’t allowed to let public opinion sway their score. This resulted in a very reasonable score of “96.8”, meaning that, for the time being, Georgi was in a comfortable position. He must have realised this, judging by the big sigh of relief that escaped his lips, but he didn’t have any time to relax as Yakov and Lilia immediately began to give their harsh critique.

            “I don’t know about you, Laura, but I think I need a pick-me-up after that.” John joked lightly.

            Laura chortled, “Be careful what you wish for – here comes Christophe Giacometti!”

            Chris glided to the centre of the rink with his arms raised in a flourished wave, much to the joy of his fans as they cheered for the Swiss skater. He wore a simple black shirt, the collar embellished with silver rhinestones, the buttons deliberately left open to reveal his washboard stomach. His tight black trousers, a stripe of white glitter down each leg, completed the unusually-toned-down outfit.

            ‘Be careful what you wish for, indeed.’ He chuckled as the music started.

            “Chris will be skating to the pop song “Sex You Up” – why am I not surprised?” Laura explained with an amused shake of her head.

            Chris frowned a little; was she implying that he had become predictable?

            ‘Well, let’s see you predict this!’ he thought as he dropped into an impossibly low spread eagle, running his hands down the length of his thighs.

            Yuuri felt his face burn; the fluid movements combined with the come-hither look on Chris’ face made him feel like he shouldn’t be watching.

            Victor laughed out loud as Chris moved to a double axel – double Euler – double salchow combination, his hands wandering up and down his stomach.

            ‘If he keeps up this level of sexuality, he’ll soon be skating in the buff!’ he thought with another chuckle tugging his lips.

            His eyes wandered back to Yuuri and he felt his heart flutter at the blush on his lover’s cheeks. He looked so cute when he was flustered!

            Yuuri must have felt the weight of his gaze; he glanced up and his face burned even more when he saw Victor’s amused smile. He quickly looked back at the rink and instantly regretted it; Chris had arched his back as he executed a layback spin and the heated look on his face as he continued to bend backwards until his head was almost level with his hips made Yuuri hide his face in his hands.

            Victor couldn’t help but laugh as Yuuri blushed.

            ‘Does he even know how adorable he is?!’ he thought, sighing.

            Yurio hissed throughout Chris’ routine, glowering at the Swiss blonde.

            “He should be banned!” he snarled, “What if there are fucking kids in the audience?”

            “Then they’ve probably heard your potty mouth, so you’re not in a position to judge.” Minako smirked.

            Yurio bit down a swear word – he would never admit it, but she did have a point. The word came shooting out of his mouth anyway, when he saw Chris’ score of “108.5”.

            “That bastard’s in first place?” he yelled incredulously. “Over my dead fucking body!”

            He ran to the rink – which was quite a feat in skates – and raced to his starting position; not in the centre, as everyone else had been, but in the far corner.

            Unfortunately for him, it was the corner that was closest to Montague Corp’s seating area. He could hear them mocking his white jumpsuit.

            “Can’t keep away from me, can you, little kitten?” Chris called over, his voice light and flirty.

            “Fuck you!” Yurio yelled over his shoulder.

            “Only in your dreams!” Chris quipped with a wink.

            Yurio ground his teeth, almost forgetting where he was. He had to push himself to the centre of the rink when he completely missed the start of his music.

            ‘Damn it!’ he cursed himself, anger making his arms and legs tremble. He pushed himself into a forward crossover onto a double toe loop-triple Lutz combination, almost tumbling to the ice as he stepped out of the turn.

            “Yurio Plisetsky looks a little anxious.” John said over the music.

            “Indeed, John,” Laura noted, “he certainly doesn’t look like he’s “Flying Without Wings” at the moment.”

            Yurio snarled as he perfectly landed a quad salchow. He was too pissed off to connect with the music. All he could do was focus on his routine and hope his technical score would get him through.

            This was supposed to be a transitional performance, a way to show that the gold-medalling-winning Junior was the one to watch this season, but he had let that asshole get to him and he cursed as he almost wobbled out of a layback spin.

            _Come on! Focus!_

            As the music came to an end, he spread his hands to the sky in a graceful, slow spin before making his way to the Kiss & Cry. Minako and Celestino both hugged him, much to his chagrin.

            “I’m not a fucking kid anymore.” He sulked. He didn't push them away, though.

            “So you won’t want this then.” Minako grinned as she dangled a cuddly tiger toy in his face. His green eyes grew wide and shiny as he snatched the toy and clutched it to his chest, plonking himself on the padded bench.

            “Only coz it’s from a fan.” He huffed, his voice almost muffled against the fuzzy toy.

            His mood greatly improved when he was scored “106.4” and he pumped the air with his fist. Celestino grabbed the teenager in a tight hug, which he surprisingly returned with gusto.

            “I knew my technical score would get me through!” he grinned as his coach ruffled his hair.

            “That puts Yurio in second place,” Laura said brightly, “I hope everyone’s keeping a close eye on this boy – he clearly isn’t called the Russian Tiger for nothing.”

            “We’re certainly seeing some impressive programs tonight,” John said in an amused tone, “let’s just hope the next Independent to take to the ice, Otabek Altin, is going to keep impressing us.”

            “We’ve heard some intriguing stories coming from Kazakhstan about this guy,” Laura couldn’t hide the curiosity in her voice, “and with a song like “War (What Is It Good For)”, you have to wonder about the story behind the choice.”

            Yuuri frowned at that last comment; what was the commentator implying?

            Yurio huffed as he returned to his seat. “That dumb bitch is just stirring the pot now – what the fuck do politics have to do with skating?”

            Yuuri nodded in agreement and decided with a solemn nod that, no matter how Otabek’s routine turned out, he would support him.

            ‘Maybe if we all started to support each other, the feud might come to an end.’ He thought optimistically.

            He had to admit that the olive-skinned young man bore an air of intimidation, wearing a deliberately-torn military uniform. Otabek started strong; a triple toe loop into a quad axel, followed by a very impressive split jump. But he brought his left foot down too soon, and he tumbled to the ice. It took him a moment to pick himself up and resume his routine. He knew that was going to cost him points, and Yurio and Yuuri noticed the grim set in his jaw.

            No one was surprised when he was scored “99.9”, just narrowly missing the one-hundred bracket and being placed one position below Phichit. He glumly made his way back to the Independents’ area, avoiding Phichit’s outstretched hand to sit down, his head hanging.

            Yurio glowered. “What the fuck’s his problem? At least he’s not in last place!”

            “But he is the lowest scoring Independent so far.” Sara noted.

            “And given that the only Independent left is JJ…” Yuuko let her sentence trail off with a small shrug.

            Yurio stared at Otabek, the heat in his glare dimmed to a curious glance. He hadn’t thought about that; it had been so long since he’d had to prove his worth to the Big Two, it was almost easy to forget the immense pressure an Independent had to go through.

            “Speaking of that dickhead…” he spat as he saw JJ jump up out of his seat, waving to the cheering crowd, completely ignoring the gloomy young man sat next to him. His bright orange-and-gold costume looked almost garish against the sheen of the ice, but the audience seemed to love it.

            “And here he is, the crowd’s favourite – Jean-Jacques Leroy!” John cheered over the deafening crowd.

            JJ struck his signature pose and the crowd got even louder. It was incredible that he could even hear when his song started, but he jumped straight into his routine as the upbeat music got the crowd clapping in time with the beat.

            As the lyrics “ _I’m gonna be a mighty king, so enemies beware!_ ” blasted over the sound system, JJ smirked as he glided gracefully past Montague Corp’s and Team Capulet’s boxes, waving at the slack-jawed, incredulous faces that glared at him.

            The audience loved the confident display, filled with not one but two hydroblades and Ina Bauers, a quad axel and quad toe loop. Yuuri was forced to admit that JJ had a level of confidence that he could only dream of having and he wasn’t surprised when the judges gave him the highest score of the night with “109.9”.

            Yurio swore out loud again. “Now I’m fucking third!”

            “Calm down – it’s the first day, for crying out loud! You’ve got the whole season to get the gold medal!” Minako hissed in his ear. Yurio sulked – she just didn’t understand!

            “Yuuri,” Yuuko said gently, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze, “You’re up.”

            Yuuri went to stand up and felt his legs tremble under his own weight. His palms began to sweat, his fingers shaking uncontrollably. His heart was threatening to jump out of his mouth – or at least it would, if his mouth hadn’t gone dry!

            He could feel Minako and Celestino walk on either side of him to the rink, but he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his pounding heart and the rasp of air in his lungs.

            _You can’t do this. You’re going to fail. You’re going to let everyone down, just like you always do. Your parents, Mari, your coaches, your teammates, Victor –_

‘Victor!’ his eyes snapped to the silver-haired man who sat at the far side of the rink.

            Victor stared back at him, every fibre of his being crying out to jump up and run to him. He saw the intense fear in Yuuri’s chocolate eyes and would have given anything to take it away.

            Slowly, he placed his hand over his chest, keeping his eyes locked on Yuuri’s. He drew out a slow, deep breath.

            ‘Breathe, lyubov moya.’ He hoped his eyes sent his plea.

            He smiled as Yuuri mimicked his actions, albeit with a trembling hand, as he made his way to the centre of the ice.

            He mouthed “good luck” to Yuuri with a soft smile, his heart skipping when Yuuri let a tiny smile escape his lips for a brief moment before he took his first position.

            Eyes cast down, his hands crossed over his chest.

            Victor hid his mouth behind cupped hands, hoping his expression looked curious rather than excited. Yuuri looked simply beautiful in his outfit – a dark green, shimmering jacket over a black long-sleeved leotard – and Victor thought it made his vanilla-coloured skin shine.

_I am not a stranger to the dark_

_“Hide away,” they say, “Coz we don’t want your broken parts”_

            Yuuri’s forlorn expression showed his emotional connection to the song; it basically described how he had felt his whole career. He slowly spun into a cantilever onto a sit spin, keeping his body low to the ice – as low as his spirit.

            Victor felt his heart clench. Now that he could hear the music that went along with Yuuri’s routine, his choice of spins made more sense, and he felt the young man’s anguish.

            It was both heart-breaking and beautiful to watch.

            As the tempo began to pick up, Yuuri straightened his back and moved into a triple toe loop.

            ‘I can do this!’ he told himself as the crowd began to applaud.

_I’m not scared to be seen_

_I make no apologies_

_This is me!_

            Yuuri’s heart flipped when he heard the audience chant along with the chorus and some of the tension in his shoulders eased away.

            ‘They like it! They like _me_!’ he could hardly believe his own thoughts, raising his hands high as he spun on his right leg, bringing his left up behind his back.

            Victor struggled not to clap along with the crowd. It was so frustrating!

            ‘I can’t wait to show him how proud I am!’ he thought gleefully.

            Just when it looked like he was going to perform a flawless routine, Yuuri mis-stepped out of a quad axel and slammed onto the ice, his stomach smacking the cold surface, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe.

            It must have sounded really painful, given that a good portion of the crowd gasped in shock.

            Victor jumped to his feet.

            “Where are you going?” Chris frowned up at him, bringing him back to his senses.

            ‘Damn it – I did it again!’ he ground his teeth together in frustration.

            “I’m going to stretch before I go on.” He said bluntly, making his way out of their seating area and ducking down a corridor. As soon as he was out of sight of his teammates, he picked up his feet and ran down the deserted corridor until he was at the entrance closest to the Kiss & Cry. Keeping in the shadows, he stared wistfully at Yuuri.

            Yuuri was sat with Minako and Celestino. Even from his hiding place, Victor could see that he was fighting back tears. Minako rubbed her hands up and down his arm in a comforting motion whilst Celestino whispered in his ear, though he didn’t hear a word he said.

            He knew that fall was going to cost him.

            So he was surprised when he received his score – “98.1”

            Celestino grabbed him in a tight hug. Minako punched the air and cheered.

            “You must have been scoring high right up into you fell,” Celestino grinned. “This is amazing, Yuuri!”

            Yuuri felt numb. He shouldn’t have got such a high score.

            ‘The judges must have taken pity on me.’ He thought, struggling not to cry as he staggered down the corridor behind the Kiss & Cry. He didn’t want to go back to his teammates; he wanted to go to their changing room and hide until the competition was over. He didn’t want them to see him cry.

            A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him backwards until he was behind a concrete pillar.

            “Hey! What the - ” his words faltered as he fell against someone’s chest, the hands wrapping round his back to hold him in a warm embrace. He already recognised the firm layout of the chest that he was held against, the strength in the arms that held him, even the scent of the aftershave.

            “You were beautiful out there,” Victor whispered softly, rubbing his hands up and down Yuuri’s back. He smiled as he felt Yuuri melt into his embrace, the tension disappearing under his fingertips.

            “I…I messed up.” Yuuri said numbly, keeping his face buried against Victor’s chest, not wanting him to see the tears that were already starting to fall.

            “Not at all,” Victor soothed. “You got back up. I’m proud of you.”

            Yuuri felt a flutter in his tummy when Victor said that. Other people had said they were proud of him – his family and friends – but he had never really believed them, thinking they were merely humouring him. But something in the way Victor said it made him believe that perhaps he was worthy of praise.

            He wanted to prove he was worthy of Victor’s praise. That he was worthy of Victor.

            Victor gently nudged Yuuri’s chin up so he could look at his face. He offered him a sweet smile as he saw those beautiful eyes shimmer, his tears almost making them even brighter.

            “Close your eyes.” He whispered. Yuuri immediately complied, missing the soft smile on Victor’s lips.

            ‘He must really trust me.’ Victor beamed to himself.

            He gently pressed his lips to Yuuri’s closed eyelids, kissing away the tears that clung to his thick eyelashes. When he pulled away, Yuuri stared up at him in awe, his cheeks growing pink.

            Victor smiled, rubbing the tip of his nose against Yuuri’s. “Better?” he asked affectionately, his smile only growing as Yuuri nodded. He tipped his head forward and held his breath, his eyelids fluttering closed as he felt the heat of Yuuri’s breath on his lips.

            “And finally, let’s welcome to the ice, last year’s gold medallist – Victor Nikiforov!”

            Victor silently cursed the commentator – perfect timing!

            He stepped backwards, taking Yuuri’s hands in his. He raised one hand to his lips for a tender kiss, his eyes not leaving Yuuri’s shining face for a moment.

            “Wish me luck.” He said brightly, a heart-shaped smile glowing in the shadows.

            Yuuri quickly closed the gap between them to softly kiss Victor’s cheek.

            “Good luck.” He whispered in Victor’s ear, his breath tickling his neck.

            Victor blinked at him, blushing. His smile grew as he turned to make his way to the rink, his hand lingering on Yuuri’s for as long as possible.

            Yuuri stayed hidden behind the pillar, clutching the concrete as he watched Victor take to the ice. He sighed as the lights made Victor’s hair sparkle, like it was made of spun silver-and-diamonds. His billowing shirt was the palest rose colour with delicate golden embroidery swirling around the collar and cuffs, tucked into charcoal trousers; it made Yuuri picture him as a Prince straight out of a storybook. He leaned his head against the pillar and smiled tenderly to himself.

            “Someone pinch me – this is all a dream.” He sighed.

            Victor smiled as he took his starting position – his left hand on his chest, his right settled on the small of his back - with the sensation of Yuuri’s lips on his cheek still tingling on his skin. He knew Yuuri was watching.

            It made his heart soar.

_I’m trying to hold my breath_

_Let it stay this way, can’t let this moment end_

            Yuuri gasped, astonished. Victor’s song was from the same movie as his!

            But they had to choose their songs for the first-round months ago, long before they had even met.

            He beamed as Victor effortlessly spun and danced on the ice, the personification of beauty and romance as the lyrics floated over the stunned audience.

            Victor’s smile was shining as he executed a quad flip for the cheering crowd just as the chorus began.

            ‘It seems destiny wanted us to meet.’ Yuuri and Victor both thought as they felt their hearts fill with love.

            “Wow!” John exclaimed, “two routines using songs from the same movie, and straight after each other! Spooky, wouldn’t you say, Laura?”

            Laura hummed. “Spooky…perhaps a little too spooky, I’m guessing some fans are thinking.”

            Sure enough, posts began to pop up online:

            “Yuuri must have found out about Victor’s program #Cheater”

            “Victor’s mocking the newcomer!”

            Some members of the audience began to vocally express their opinions; clusters cheered for Victor, others actually booed the reigning champion.

            Victor’s smile never faltered.

            ‘Let them think what they want!’ he thought boldly, ‘ _We_ know the truth!’

            As the final words, “ _for me_ ”, filtered through the arena, Victor risked a glance down the corridor to Yuuri, mouthing the words to him.

            He thought his heart was going to explode when he saw Yuuri do the exact same thing!

            He almost didn’t go to the Kiss & Cry, wanting to run back to Yuuri, but Yakov’s rough grip on his shoulder stopped him and he begrudgingly sat down between his coaches. He couldn’t have cared less about his score – all that mattered to him was that Yuuri had understood the message of the song:

            Before the season began, he had chosen the song to express how his previous win was not enough for him – he would forever chase the next medal. But now, he truly understood the song; no gold medal could ever match Yuuri, and he prayed he felt the same way.

            He did smile, however, when he read “109.8” on the scoreboard.

            “And that score puts Victor in second place, behind Jean-Jacques Leroy,” Laura said excitedly as the crowd began to scream, “meaning that tomorrow’s round is set to be even more exciting than today’s.”

            Yuuri did a quick calculation in his head; he was fourth from the bottom of the board, meaning that in order to firmly secure a position in the next level, he would have to go up by at least one position tomorrow.

            With one final glance at a smiling Victor, Yuuri glumly made his way to his changing room with the hopes of a shower before his teammates got there.

            ‘Tomorrow’s going to be tough.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * _collapses on the sofa, an ice pack on her forehead_ *
> 
> PHEW!!!
> 
> That was the longest - and most difficult! - chapter I've written so far! I hope you liked it, please let me know how I did. I've been really worried about writing their programs, so I hope the playlist helps ^_^


	15. Borrow Cupid’s Skates And Glide With Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor have their first secret training session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER WARNING**   
> MAJOR FLUFF ALERT!!

            Victor skidded to a halt on the ice and looked towards the double doors for the tenth time in the last twenty minutes. Nothing.

            He rubbed his gloved hands together nervously and slowly etched a figure eight into the ice as he waited. And waited.

            He glanced at his watch – it was almost nine o’clock. The arena had been empty for well over an hour and he was waiting for Yuuri to show up for their first training session.

            Ever since he’d stepped from the Kiss & Cry after his first program, he’d been itching to start their training sessions. Though, he had to admit, it was purely because it meant he could see his Yuuri again. He could talk to him freely, hold his hand, kiss him. It had made him almost giddy with excitement, and he had struggled to keep his emotions under control whilst he was with his teammates for dinner, wondering how soon he could possibly get away without arousing suspicion.

            He had changed into a simple black tracksuit after dinner and made his way to the arena. The hopeless romantic in him had imagined Yuuri waiting for him outside the arena, ready to run into his open arms. But that hadn’t happened. He hadn’t been in the arena either. So Victor had warmed up on his own, much to his disappointment, and waited patiently. Then impatiently. Then anxiously.

            ‘What if he’s had second thoughts?’ his mind began to spin with worry. ‘What if someone spotted him? What if he really hurt himself when he fell today?’

            Just when he thought his brain was going to explode from all the worst-case scenarios that filled it, he heard the slam of the double doors and turned his head sharply.

            His chest felt light when he saw Yuuri running down the steps to the rink, his face flushed pink.

            Victor raced to the barrier, his hands outstretched in front of him. Yuuri reached for him, his stomach slamming into the wall as he took Victor’s hands in his. Victor turned his ankles just in time to slow himself down and leaned into Yuuri’s waiting arms, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s shoulders.

            He pressed his lips to Yuuri’s impatiently, his breath coming out in short gasps. God, those lips tasted even better than last night!

            “What – took – you – so – long?” he murmured against Yuuri’s mouth, punctuating each word with an eager kiss.

            Yuuri moaned softly with every kiss, momentarily losing himself in the feel of Victor’s lips on his, his fingers carding through his hair, his gloved hand gripping the back of his neck.

            “Sorry – Mari – suspicious – said – I was – going – jogging.”

            Victor pulled away just enough to see the sad dullness in Yuuri’s deep brown eyes. He could tell how uncomfortable he felt about lying to his sister. It dawned on him how easy it had been for him to make up an excuse to leave his hotel; it made him wonder if he really was as close to his teammates as he had always believed.

            ‘I suppose I would feel bad if Chris was my brother, rather than my friend.’ He reasoned with himself.

            He patted Yuuri’s shoulder softly, bringing his attention back to him.

            “Shall we get started?” he asked with a soft smile, which only grew as Yuuri nodded excitedly. He leaned against the barrier as Yuuri flung his jacket onto the bench and sat down to swap his trainers for his skates.

            Yuuri was wearing a black jumper over navy-blue jogging bottoms. Both were baggy and hid his figure, which Victor noticed with a slight pout. He wondered if he could ask Yuuri to skate in jeans again, but stopped himself with a tiny snigger.

            _You’re supposed to be coaching him, not checking out his cute little butt!_

            Still…Victor allowed himself a moment to let his imagination roam, sniggering a bit more as a blush rose on his cheeks.

            Yuuri noticed the snigger and blushed as he stood up.

            “What?” his voice betrayed his anxiety as it quavered.

            Victor shook his head, still sniggering. “Nothing, lyubov moya.”

            Yuuri tipped his head to one side. “What does that mean?”

            Victor rubbed his arm awkwardly and cast his eyes down; he hadn’t even realised that he’d slipped into Russian. “Oh. Well, umm…it means “my love”.” He cast his eyes back up to Yuuri, expecting him to be embarrassed, maybe even laughing at him for saying something so mushy, so soon.

            Instead he saw Yuuri purse his lips thoughtfully as he took the guards off his skates. He stepped to the gate and pushed himself on to the ice effortlessly.

            “Lyubov moya?” he tested the words. Victor felt his heart flip at the way his Japanese accent made the words sound soft. Intimate. Swallowing a shocked lump, he quickly nodded.

            A warm smile blossomed on Yuuri’s face. It made Victor feel like he had never seen such a beautiful sight before.

            “I’ll try to remember that.” Yuuri giggled as he passed Victor, circling him. Victor spun on the spot, not taking his eyes off the smiling angel in front of him.

            “Teach me how you say it in Japanese!” he said excitedly as Yuuri began to glide away from him to start his warm-up.

            Yuuri blushed again. “Oh. Erm…watashi no ai.” He mumbled, flustered; he’d never really given much thought as to how to actually say something like that before.

            Victor beamed a heart-shaped smile. “Wow! Japanese is so pretty!”

            He caught up with Yuuri and took his hand in his. “Of course, I’m not just talking about the language.” He said with a sly wink, making the younger man’s face burn.

            He laughed heartily for a moment, making a mental note to tease Yuuri like that again – he was _cute_ when he blushed!

            “So,” he said brightly, finally ready to get down to business, “what song have you chosen for tomorrow’s program?”

            Yuuri’s smile was still awkward, but at least the tension was starting to leave his shoulders. “A Whole New World.”

He was immediately startled when Victor began clapping excitedly.

            “I love that movie!” Victor exclaimed, “You know, it _is_ a duet – perhaps you require a partner for your routine?” he added with a flirty smirk, which only intensified the blush on Yuuri’s cheeks.

            Yuuri decided that it would better if he stared at the ice for a while, rather than the mischievous glint in those summer-sky eyes. “Actually, in my program, I’m playing the part of the magic carpet that takes the lovers on their magical journey.”

            Victor suddenly crumpled to the ice, crying out.

            Yuuri raced over and stumbled to his knees, stooped over Victor. “What happened?”

            Victor’s arm was over his eyes, his other hand fisted the front of his top over his chest. “My…poor heart…too…cute!”

            Victor peeked out from under his arm and burst into loud laughter at the shift in Yuuri’s expression from worry, to bewilderment, to embarrassment when he realised he was being teased.

            “That’s not funny!” he scowled, which only made his blush even more adorable. “You scared me!” he carefully got back to his feet before holding his hand out to Victor.

            Victor deftly wrapped his fingers round Yuuri’s. “Such a gentleman!” he cooed as he let Yuuri pull him up.

            “Are you ever going to stop teasing me?” Yuuri whined, despite the tiny butterfly that was flapping in his tummy when Victor smiled at him.

            _Yeah. Like you’re not loving it!_ An amused voice sang in his head.

            “I’m sorry, Yuuri.” Victor said softly with a pout and a flutter of his silver lashes, trying to sound sincere, but his giggles didn’t exactly help.

            Yuuri’s eyes narrowed. “No you’re not.”

            Victor shrugged, his giggling finally subsiding to a soft smile. He rubbed his thumb over Yuuri’s knuckles, reminding him that he hadn’t let go of his hand once he’d stood up, and gently tugged Yuuri closer to him, until he could almost touch his forehead to his. He brought his free hand up to cup Yuuri’s chin and thoroughly enjoyed the wide-eyed expression he received in return. As his fingers held his chin, he delicately rubbed his thumb along Yuuri’s lower lip, making the younger man shiver and gasp at the contact.

            “Take me on a magical journey, _watashi no ai_.” He whispered, his breath ghosting over Yuuri’s cheeks, his eyes burning though his skull into his very soul.

            Yuuri pushed Victor backwards with a flustered squeak – he hadn’t been prepared for the beautiful Russian to speak Japanese so eloquently, or for the way his heart leapt when he did it.

            “V-Victor!” he stammered, burying his face in his hands as the silver-haired living god chuckled at him.

            Victor held his hands out apologetically. “Okay, okay. I’m done – promise!”

            Yuuri wasn’t quite sure if he believed him.

            Victor turned on his heel and made his way to the edge of the rink. Resting his elbows on the wall, he gestured lazily to the rink.

            “The stage is yours, Yuuri. Surprise me.” He called with a wink.

***

            Yuuri huffed, his hands on his knees, as he finished his first run-through. It was a disaster, littered with mistakes.

            Not that anyone would have noticed if they heard Victor’s cheery claps!

            “That was amazing!” he cooed, skating over to bundle Yuuri into a tight hug.

            Yuuri “oof”-ed as Victor collided with him before looking up into those stunning eyes. He wanted to believe him so badly, but he wasn’t a child to be mollycoddled.

            “Pfft!” he scoffed, pushing himself away from Victor; he wasn’t worthy of a hug. “A Junior wouldn’t have made so many mistakes! You said you were going to coach me, Victor. So please don’t patronise me!”

            It was like a switch was flipped; the excited glint in Victor’s eyes was instantly replaced by a steely glare, the heart-shaped smile melted into a hard line, his hands, that had been outstretched to Yuuri, slotted over his hips.

            Yuuri gulped audibly. So this is what “coach” Victor looked like.

            ‘I think I’d rather have Minako yell at me!’ he thought timidly.

            “Alright,” Victor drew a deep breath, “your free leg is always limp – that’s why you’re fluffing your jumps. It should be rigid, like if you were doing ballet. Your step sequences are alright, but you need to work on your transitions; at the moment, you can clearly see when you’re about to jump. It should be fluid, like the music is flowing through you, not pushing you around the ice! You’ve mastered toe loops, but your salchows leave a lot to be desired. And don’t be so eager to add quads at this stage of the competition; I’d rather you get a high score with perfectly-executed doubles and triples than drop out because you can’t land a quad. Oh, and as for that cantilever…”

            Yuuri wanted the ice to open up and swallow him whole as Victor continued to tear his program to shreds. He didn’t know whether to hang his head in shame or keep eye contact, even though he knew he must have looked absolutely petrified.

            Suddenly, Victor clapped his hands together. “Right! Take your first position – we’re going to go over this again.”

            He followed Yuuri to the centre of the ice. He corrected Yuuri’s posture as he stood in his first position. Yuuri clenched his teeth together; he felt Victor’s hands glide over his arms and down his back as he nudged his awkward limbs into a better stance.

            His skin vibrated from the touch.

            Victor stood behind Yuuri, quickly glancing at the tight clench of Yuuri’s jaw as he repositioned his arms. He fought to keep a gasp from leaving his lips when he realised that Yuuri was reacting to his touch.

            It gave him a tiny thrill he’d never experienced before.

            He cleared his throat, making the smaller man flinch. “Start again, up to the first jump.”

            They dissected Yuuri’s program, going over every stage until Victor was finally satisfied enough to let him do another run-through. But once Yuuri was done, he saw Victor shake his head solemnly.

            “Again!” he barked with a clap of his hands.

            “Again!” he called when Yuuri tumbled to the ice.

            “Again!” he yelled when he thought Yuuri had mis-stepped out of a camel spin.

            “Again!” he cried when Yuuri put his arms in the wrong position.

            Two hours later, Yuuri was ready to just collapse on the ice and wait for someone to find him there in the morning. He’d lost count of how many times they had gone over his program – he gave up counting after thirty – and he felt his legs and feet beg for mercy.

            Victor bent over him and affectionately patted his back. “Now you’re getting the hang of it!” he beamed.

            “Are you – trying to – kill me?!” Yuuri panted.

            Victor pressed his fingertips to his chest, looking genuinely wounded. “Why on earth would I want to do that?”

            Yuuri straightened himself and looked him in the eyes. “For someone who’s never coached before, you’re one hell of a slave-driver!”

            “Gold medals don’t come easily, you know!” Victor pouted, wagging his finger at Yuuri.

            Yuuri blinked wide. “You…you think I could win gold?” his voice came out crackly, not daring to believe he’d actually heard him correctly.

            Victor smiled softly, the rigidness in his shoulders disappearing. “Well, if I’m not going to win gold, then of course I want you to win.”

            “You’ll win – you always do!” Yuuri said with a coy smile, chiding himself for sounding like a total fanboy.

            Victor laced his fingers between Yuuri’s. “Maybe I’ve found something better to kiss than a gold medal.” He whispered.

            Before Yuuri could process what he’d just said, Victor pressed his lips to his with a featherlight kiss, stealing the breath from his lungs.

            Yuuri couldn’t stop the goofy grin that burst onto his face when Victor smiled down at him, fluttering long silver lashes at him.

            Victor touched his forehead to Yuuri’s. “You’re ready. I know you are.”

            Yuuri’s smile cooled a little but didn’t completely vanish; he had managed a few run-throughs where he didn’t fall either on his face or his ass, so he was starting to feel a little bit more confident about tomorrow.

            Exhausted, but confident.

            They skated back to the barrier holding hands. Yuuri gave Victor’s hand a gentle squeeze, just to reassure himself that he really was holding Victor Nikiforov’s hand. When he felt Victor return the squeeze, he thought his heart was going to burst.

            He’d never felt so happy in his whole life!

            As they sat on the bench to remove their skates, a thought suddenly dawned on him.

            “Victor!” he cried out. “What about your own routine? You didn’t practise it at all!”

            Victor smiled keenly at him over his shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m more than ready.”

            Yuuri couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy at the confidence that shone out every pore of Victor’s being.

            Victor slid across the bench until his hip bumped against Yuuri’s. He touched his forefinger to Yuuri’s chin, nudging his face until he could see those magnificent chocolate eyes.

            “I want these little rendezvous to be all about you.” He purred. Yuuri felt his face melt again under the heat in those eyes, under the breath that brushed against his skin.

            Victor moved a little closer and Yuuri closed his eyes, expecting a kiss. He was surprised when Victor instead nuzzled into the crook of his neck, wrapping his arms around him in a tender hug.

            “You’ve got so much potential inside of you, Yuuri,” Victor whispered into the shell of Yuuri’s ear, “I just wish you could see it the way I do.”

            Yuuri melted into Victor’s hug, resting his cheek against Victor’s. “I promise I’ll make you proud tomorrow, Victor.”

            Victor squeezed him tighter for a second before releasing him. Even as he sat back, he could still feel the imprint of Yuuri against him, warming him better than any blanket.

            Yuuri went to stand up in his bare feet to get his trainers and winced. His feet were red raw.

            “Yuuri?” Victor reached out, his brow furrowed.

            “It’s nothing,” Yuuri tried to reassure him, “I must have tied my laces too tight, that’s all.”

            Victor pulled Yuuri back to the bench and knelt in front of him to inspect his feet. Yuuri gawped at the concern that shone from Victor’s face; he couldn’t believe that a living legend like Victor Nikiforov would be concerned about him.

            Victor gently wrapped a hand around one of Yuuri’s ankles and raised his foot until he could rest it on his bended knee. He could see the angry blisters that were already starting to bubble under the skin.

            “Make sure you bind these before you go to bed. Do you have anti-inflammatory cream and bandages?”

            Yuuri had to remind himself to answer; the feel of Victor’s slender fingers, cool against the burning blotches on his skin, made him feel breathless. So he quickly nodded, humming in agreement.

            Victor brought his other hand up and gently rubbed along the top of Yuuri’s foot, making the other man gasp out loud. It was not a sound of pain. So he added a little more pressure, using both hands to massage the sore spots on Yuuri’s heel and instep.

            He smiled to himself, thinking he was being a true romantic. Until he heard a strangled noise coming from Yuuri’s lips. He quickly looked up, thinking he was hurting him.

            He hadn’t been expecting Yuuri to have his hand pressed to his mouth, holding in a laugh.

            “S-sorry,” he stammered between giggles, “I-I’m a little ticklish - ”

            Victor grinned crookedly, an eyebrow raised. “Oh really?”

            “NO! DON’T!”

            But Yuuri’s protests soon evaporated as his laughter echoed around the arena when Victor launched his attack, starting at his foot, which was still trapped in his grip. He released his foot and knelt closer to dig his fingertips into Yuuri’s sides, making the Japanese man squirm and shriek with laughter.

            It was music to Victor’s ears and he never wanted it to end.

            Keeping one hand relentlessly prodding at Yuuri’s waist, he moved the other up to the crook under his arm. Yuuri felt his arm twitch and jerk as he tried to escape, but Victor persisted until he thought his lungs were going to contract from lack of oxygen.

            “V-Vic-Victor!” he gasped between laughs, “I-I can’t breathe!”

            Chuckling, Victor released him, marvelling at the bright flush in Yuuri’s face. It was different from when he blushed out of embarrassment or even when they kissed; it made his cheeks look fuller, fresher.

            ‘How many ways can one person look beautiful?’ he thought, in awe.

            Yuuri dragged a breath into his lungs. He then lunged, catching Victor off-guard. As they toppled to the floor, Yuuri began to poke and prod at Victor’s ribs until the Russian was howling with laughter, squirming under him.

            “Not fair!” he giggled before he began to tickle Yuuri again, hoping to save himself.

            The arena rang out with their laughter long after they stopped, lying on the floor next to each other, struggling to breath between giggles.

            Yuuri turned his head to face Victor. “I don’t think I’ve laughed like that since I was a kid.”

            Victor shifted his weight until he was lying on his side. He propped his head on his knuckles as he smiled. “You should laugh more often – it suits you.”

            Yuuri smiled shyly. “Maybe that’s a job for my coach. Or…”

            Victor frowned as Yuuri let the sentence trail off. “Or?”

            Yuuri chewed his lip for a second, a fresh blush blooming on his cheeks. He turned to lie on his side, tucking his arm under his head, to gaze into Victor’s eyes. Eyes that only a few days ago Yuuri could have only dreamed of seeing this close. His eyes drank in the whole of Victor’s face, starting from his eyes and moving outwards to take in his slender nose, shaped brows, flushed cheeks and full lips, his silky hair that fell against his hand as he leaned on it, for once looking slightly unruly from where he’d been rolling around on the floor.

            ‘This man was a glittering god beyond my reach,’ he thought with awe, ‘and now he’s right here next to me, laughing with me!’

            It had made him realise that this was a whole other side to Victor – not the Victor from his posters, or the interviews, not just a rival or even a coach, but something altogether new and exciting. The real Victor, the Victor that maybe only he’d seen. Yuuri liked the idea of being the only one who knew the real Victor, the one lying next to him. But a voice in his head was telling him to try and make some sense of all of this.

            All these feelings needed a name.

            “M-maybe my boyfriend?”

            Victor stared slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Did he just hear him right?!

            “B-boyfriend?” he stammered, his tongue forgetting how to work.

            “Is-is that okay?” Yuuri’s eyes grew wide as panic crept in, “I-I know it’s really s-sudden, and I-I’m not expecting you to change who you are or how you act, because t-to me you’re perfect just the way you are, so if-if you don’t want to put a label on this then – _mmmph_?!”

            Victor leapt to plant a messy kiss on Yuuri’s startled lips, silencing him.

            “Very, _very_ okay – boyfriend!” his heart-shaped smile was bigger than Yuuri had ever seen. He promised himself he’d always try to make Victor smile like that.

            That would be _his_ job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you reckon; is Victor a good coach? Is Yuuri EVER going to stop blushing?? XD
> 
> Coming up next: The Second Round of the First Heat! 
> 
> Let me know how I'm doing xx


	16. Where Civil Skates Make Civil Ice Unclean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Round of the First Heat. Who will make it through to the next stage? Who will be out of the competition? Let's find out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to check out the playlist on YouTube :D
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEnkKaNTEz3S7P8JcDQHWNF1O2nrxlSCa
> 
> For this chapter, listen to songs 12-22
> 
> ***
> 
> Let's have a quick recap of the leader board:  
> 1\. Jean-Jacques Leroy (109.9)  
> 2\. Victor Nikiforov (109.8)  
> 3\. Christophe Giacometti (108.5)  
> 4\. Yurio Plisetsky (106.4)  
> 5\. Phichit Chulanont (100.1)  
> 6\. Otabek Altin (99.9)  
> 7\. Yuuri Katsuki (98.1)  
> 8\. Michele Crispino (97.4)  
> 9\. Georgi Popovich (96.8)  
> 10\. Minami Kenjirou (95.7)  
> 11\. Seung-Gil Lee (92.9)

            The next day, Yuuri could feel the tension in his team’s designated box; it was palpable, suffocating, crushing.

            It knocked him sideways to see that everyone else was just as anxious as he was: Michele was hunched forwards in his seat, his hands clasped tightly together, Sara was twiddling with a lock of her hair over and over and Yuuri could see Yurio’s shoulders vibrate under his jacket. Even Minako and Celestino kept glancing around the arena, jaws clenched and eyes slightly widened. Yuuko and Takeshi appeared to be the only ones that were calm; that being said, they kept whispering to each other, sharing glances at the skaters and nodding or frowning at whatever the other had just said.

            “Hey, I thought _I_ was the Team Capulet fraidy-cat!” Yuuri tried to make a joke, but all it earned him was a seething glare from Yurio; clearly, he wasn’t the team comedian!

            He turned his attention back to the rink, trying to refocus on the competition.

            After today’s round, the two skaters at the bottom of the leader board would be eliminated. As it stood, JJ, Victor and Yurio were the top three, whilst Seung-Gil, Minami and Georgi were at the bottom. So whilst Yuuri was not the worst skater in the competition, he knew he couldn’t be complacent. He had to move up at least one position to guarantee his place in the Second Heat.

            He needed to get to the Final. For Victor.

            His knees knocked together, his feet just wouldn’t stay still, he constantly felt like he was mopping his brow. So much was riding on him doing well and he could feel it weighing him down.

            ‘What’ll I do if I don’t get to the next level?’ he thought, sweat forming on his brow again. ‘How will I possibly look Victor in the eye again? He deserves a winner – not a loser like me!’

            Yuuko saw the twitch in his legs and placed her hand on his knee. He snapped his head up and stared at her big brown eyes like she’d just appeared out of thin air.

            “Breathe, Yuuri,” she whispered, “you’re ready.”

            _“You’re ready. I know you are.”_

            Victor’s words from the night before flowed through him like warm water, washing away the nerves instantly. Releasing a shuddering breath, he smiled weakly at Yuuko, who smiled sweetly in return. She turned her head back to the rink, but kept her hand on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze as the commentators announced the first program.

            “Welcome to the second round of the First Heat!” John cheered over the roar of the crowd. “We saw some incredible performances yesterday and we’re all hoping for more of the same today.”

            “Indeed, John,” Laura beamed next to her co-host, “and following the same line-up as yesterday, first to skate is Minami Kenjirou of Montague Corp. He’s certainly going for the “cute” factor for the start of the Grand Prix, as today he will be skating to “I Got No Strings”.”

            “Well, I hope he doesn’t have any strings – they’ll only tangle in his skates!” John joked drily.

            “Who the fuck writes his script?” Yurio groaned with a roll of his eyes.

            Minami waved to the cheering crowd as he took his starting position. His wild blonde-and-red hair was gelled back, the red streak looking a stripe atop his head. He wore a white long-sleeved jumper under tanned lederhosen and he had used eyeliner to draw “joints” around his knees and mouth.

            “Heh! A real puppet of Montague Corp!” Yurio sneered. Yuuri quickly glanced at the teenage Russian and saw nothing but disdain in his emerald eyes.

            He was about to ask him what he was so angry about, but the music started and he forced himself to focus on Minami.

            Minami stood on the ice with his feet apart, knees together, his shoulders drooped forward with his arms hanging limply at his sides, head tipped to one side. As the song started with a trumpet fanfare, he “came to life”, stretching his arms above his head. He stared at his hands with wide, sparkling eyes and puffed his chest out as he pushed himself into a bunny hop jump.

            “He’s certainly making the most of his youthfulness, isn’t he?” Yuuri heard John chuckle over the music as Minami beamed as he swung his left leg to propel him into a double salchow – triple Lutz combination.

            “Well, this is his first Senior competition, John,” Laura remarked, “it can’t be easy to make that transition.”

            But Yuuri thought he made it look effortless. In fact, the Japanese boy looked like he was having fun out there; something Yuuri hadn’t felt in a long time.

            When he finished, Minami bowed low to the audience before he made his way to the Kiss & Cry.

            Victor noticed with a rue smile that Lilia was gripping his tiny hands tight as they waited for his score.

            ‘So the ice queen has a heart, after all!’ he thought warmly.

            The scoreboard flashed “98.7”.

            “Amazing!” Laura cheered as Minami screeched with joy, “that’s three whole points more than yesterday, giving Minami a total score of 194.4 for both programs. I hope his coaches are proud of the young skater.”

            Victor hoped so too; both Yakov and Lilia’s face were completely unreadable as they returned to Montague Corp’s box.

            Minami, on the other hand, was as easy to read as a picture book; his huge eyes shining with tears, cheeks flushed and the biggest smile on his face as he ran back to his teammates. Mila grabbed the boy in a tight hug, ruffling his hair until it stuck up at odd angles.

            “Way to go, kid!” she beamed.

            “What a way to make your Senior debut.” Georgi smiled warmly.

            “I think I almost saw Yakov smile – the last time he did that was when Victor split his pants in the middle of a routine!” Chris winked.

            Victor threw his head back and laughed. “Poor Yakov couldn’t look me in the eye for a month!”

            Minami tilted his head to one side, puzzled.

            Victor blushed a little. “Well…Chris had dared me to go commando that day…”

            Minami’s face burned bright red and he squeaked in surprise, making his teammates guffaw heartily. The team settled into muffled giggles (due to a blizzard-like glare from Lilia) as Michele prepared for his routine.

            The Italian lad kept his eyes cast down as he stepped onto the ice. His costume was a deep purple jacket, rhinestones sparkling on the shoulders and twinkling down his chest, with a mauve waistcoat, over an open-collared white shirt, a lavender bow tie hung over his neck, undone.

            Sara sighed heavily at the sombre expression on her brother’s face; they’d had another fight last night about her love life, how she wanted to start dating (and how he really didn’t like the idea!) and she had gotten rather nasty with him.

            “You are not my dad, Mikey!” she had screamed at him, jabbing her finger in his chest until he had had to back away from her. “You can’t tell me what I can or can’t do!”

            “I’m not!” he had protested, “I’m just trying to tell you that there are too many creeps out there – I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you!”

            “So, what? I’m not allowed to make my own mistakes? I’m to stay in my ivory tower while Prince Mikey keeps me all to himself?”

            Michele had looked like she’d slapped him. “Is it a crime to be a careful big brother?”

            “No, but it should be!”

            Now, as she watched him on the ice, she began to regret her harsh words; she loved her brother, always would. He would always be the number one man in her life. But she was ready to grow up, to learn more about herself, even if he wasn’t.

            Michele swept his forlorn eyes over the audience.

            ‘Sara,’ he thought as he began with a series of slow spins, ‘I hope you’re watching this.’

            “This song is called “Serenade For Two”,” Laura explained as he executed a quadruple salchow; Yuuri noted the sigh in her voice, “no doubt a song for his sister.”

            ‘Yes,’ Michele thought sadly, his triple flip – single loop – triple salchow combination making the audience gasp in awe, ‘a farewell song’.

            Last night, after Sara had stormed to her room, he’d had a chat with Yuuko and Takeshi. Turns out he hadn’t been as good of a brother as he’d thought.

            “We’re not saying that!” Yuuko had said with a soothing pat on his arm as he had started to mope, “it’s just that Sara’s not a little girl anymore; she’s a beautiful young woman.”

            “She’s still my little sister!” Michele had pouted.

            “And she always will be,” the Japanese woman smiled warmly, “but would it really be so bad if she started dating?”

            Michele had grimaced at the thought. “What if she gets stuck with a loser? What if someone breaks her heart?”

            “Then, as her big brother, you’ll be there to support her,” Takeshi had said, “but have you stopped to think about what if she finds the right guy?” the burly man continued when he saw the young lad frown. “You’re so convinced that someone’s going to hurt her, you haven’t thought about if a guy could actually be right for her. Don’t you want her to be happy? Maybe even get married and have kids one day? Just think – Uncle Mikey!”

            Yuuko had smiled affectionately at her husband; he might have looked like a bulldog, but he was as cuddly as a puppy sometimes!

            Michele had actually liked the sound of “Uncle Mikey”, the thought of his sister being a proud Italian Mamma with a flock of tiny bambinos.

            So, today, this song was dedicated to Sara, but not in the way as yesterday’s performance; today, he was giving her his blessing to spread her wings.

            Sara cupped her hands in front of her mouth as his triple axel made another cheer ripple through the crowd. She’d never seen him skate with such sadness, such resignation before.

            It made her want to cry, it was so beautiful to watch!

            ‘Sara, this is it. This is the last time I’ll skate for you.’ Michele thought with an aching heart as he spun gracefully, his hands crossing in front of his chest. A flawless triple Lutz cemented his routine as he slowly came to a halt, his eyes looking proudly to the heavens – to his future without his sister at his side.

            The crowd jumped to their feet. Fans started to throw roses onto the ice, chanting the athlete’s name.

            Sara ran to the Kiss & Cry, tears streaming from her lilac eyes, and flung her arms around her brother’s neck. At first, Michele just stood there with a slight blush, stunned by the change in her mood. But as soon as he heard her crying, all the shock disappeared and he hugged her back.

            “Oh, Mikey! That was beautiful!” she sobbed onto his shoulder, “I – I’m so sorry about our fight.”

            Michele hugged her a little tighter, soothing her sobs with a soft smile. “It’s alright, sorellina. You were right.”

            Sara pulled back and stared up at her twin, blinking lilac eyes in confusion. “I was?”

            Michele nodded, his smile growing lopsided. “Si. I guess I have been a bit of a pain in the butt lately.”

            Sara’s eyes seemed to grow. “So…you’re okay if I start dating?”

            Michele audibly gulped. “Well…”

            But before he could answer, she squeezed him in a tight hug and squealed with excitement. Then she ran off, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

            “H-hey,” Michele called after her, a little taken aback, “where are you going?”

            “That guy from the club asked me out – I’m going to see if he’s free after the competition!” she called over her shoulder with a dazzling smile.

            Celestino grabbed him by the shoulder before he could give chase, his promise to his sister already forgotten, and guided him to the bench.

            “And the judges have given Michele Crispino a score of 101.5, making his total 198.9,” John said brightly as the Italian waved to the crowd, “we might have just seen the first skater to safely go through to the Second Heat.”

            “Time will tell,” Laura teased with a wag of her finger, “up next is the Independent skater, Phichit Chulanont, skating to “Mysterious Girl” – let’s hope there’s nothing mysterious about his program!”

            Yuuri applauded along with the deafening crowd when he saw Phichit take to the ice, dressed in a garish blue Hawaiian shirt over a white leotard, complete with sunglasses.

            Last night, after he’d got back to his room, Yuuri had noticed that the Thai skater had added him on every possible social media platform and had bombarded him with comments on his photos and hilarious memes. Yuuri had found his wicked sense of humour infectious and they had stayed up until the early hours tweeting, texting and basically laughing.

            Phichit waved at him just before he started his program.

            “That your new boyfriend?” Yurio smirked as Yuuri waved back.

            “Why, you jealous?” Yuuri quipped, making the teenager almost choke on his water. Minako overheard and threw her head back in raucous laughter; she’d never heard Yuuri sound so cocky before.

            “Hey, if that kid can make you act like this, he’s okay in my book!” she grinned, slapping his shoulder.

            Yuuri blushed. “H-he isn’t my boyfriend, you know that, right?” he felt a knot form in his stomach. The last thing he wanted was a rumour to circulate about him and Phichit.

            Minako smirked at him. “Relax, Yuuri. It’s about time you had a best friend.”

            That gave him food for thought. A best friend? He’d always thought of Yuuko and Takeshi as his best friends, but he had to admit that, since they’d got married, he had let himself drift away from them. He’d told himself that they needed time alone as newlyweds, but the truth was he had been uncomfortable as the infamous “third wheel” so he’d backed away.

            Phichit made him laugh. Didn’t judge him for any mistakes he had made in the past or who he skated for. Probably wouldn’t even care if he was in a relationship with Victor, if he was ever brave enough to tell anyone. Yuuri was comfortable with Phichit in a way that was similar to the way he was with Victor, yet totally different. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t professional.

            It was friendship.

            And Yuuri wanted to proudly show his friend that he supported him.

            So as Phichit took his starting position – a lazy slouch against the rink’s wall, his left foot hooked over his right – Yuuri gave one last “woo hoo!”; unfortunately, everyone else had finished cheering, so his cheered echoed around the arena, making several people chuckle and making his face burn.

            Phichit grinned and winked in his direction gratefully. Then his song began.

            As the upbeat pop song began, he pushed himself around the rink, swaying his hips like he was dancing a samba, flashing a cheesy grin to the audience. It seemed like he was developing a strong female fanbase, based on the squeals that followed him.

            “An Ina Bauer into a triple flip – triple toe loop combination, followed by a closed mohawk into a bent-leg layover…” John relayed his routine from the commentator’s box, his low voice slightly edged with excitement as the Thai young man showed no signs of fatigue.

            Yuuri felt his chest hum with excitement as it looked like his new friend was going to put in a flawless routine. But after a fast-paced spin sequence, Phichit wobbled and had to put his hand out onto the ice to balance himself. The crowd groaned, knowing the manoeuvre would likely cost him points.

            Nevertheless, Phichit kept his grin in place and he completed the program with a slow sit spin, laying back on the ice as if he was sunbathing.

            Victor watched him as he made his way to the Kiss & Cry, noticing the way he put his thumbs up to Yuuri. He had thought he’d be jealous of the attention Yuuri was getting, especially so soon after Yuuri calling him his boyfriend, but he didn’t. He supposed it was down to the fact that there was simply nothing threatening about Phichit, romantic or otherwise; he was a human hamster, and who could hate that?

            Phichit bowed to the crowd when his score of “99.8” flashed onscreen.

            “Though that was slightly lower than yesterday’s score, Phichit is currently top of the leader board,” Laura smiled, blushing a little when Phichit waved at her again, “let’s see if Seung-Gil can change that.”

            Dressed in a silver Buddhist monk’s tunic and three-quarter length trousers, his thick black hair gelled smooth down the back of his neck, the Korean looked like he had just come from a temple.

            “He’s finally putting that poker face to good use.” Georgi quipped to Chris, the Swiss skater humming in agreement.

            Seung-Gil stood with his head bowed as a violin’s lamentful chords filled the arena. As a piano began to slowly play, he stepped in time to the melody, raising his head to the glass ceiling. The audience gasped in quiet awe as his stoic expression made him look so peaceful, his triple salchow graceful and languid.

            As the music began to build to a crescendo, he leapt into a split, both arms in the air. His spins grew faster, his crossovers urgent. Yuuri felt the Korean’s prayer push his heart up to his throat, stunned at how his program was affecting him.

            Not because of its religious connotation, he realised with a jolt.

            ‘This is how Victor made me feel last night!’ he risked a quick glance at his secret boyfriend and was rewarded with blue eyes already waiting for him. A faint blush painted Victor’s alabaster cheeks and Yuuri knew with a rush of joy that he felt the same way. For one glorious heartbeat, they gazed into each other’s eyes from across the ice, the beautiful music drawing them into a private world where only they existed. With a miniscule smile, both men reluctantly turned their attention back to Seung-Gil’s program, watching as the Korean made the spectators gasp as he executed a graceful step sequence.

            Seung-Gil completed his program mirroring his starting position before solemnly skating to the Kiss & Cry to join Yakov and Lilia. He bent to pick up a pink rose tossed by a fan and handed it to Lilia, the gesture making her narrow eyes widen with surprise.

            “And the score for Seung-Gil is “95.2”, a very impressive 2.3 improvement on yesterday’s score…”

            “Where are you going?” Yakov asked, momentarily ignoring the commentators and cheering crowds as the Korean suddenly stood up.

            “My total score is 188.1,” Seung-Gil said glumly, not even looking over his shoulder as he stepped off the raised platform, “unless someone makes a catastrophic error, it looks like I’m out of the GPS.”

            Yakov stared after his skater, amazed that the young man had not only worked that out so soon but had already admitted defeat. He wasn’t used to his skaters losing, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Seung-Gil’s nonchalant attitude.

            “Mister Lee, how do you feel about your score?” a rather pushy reporter thrusted a microphone into his face as he made his way to Montague Corp’s box.

            “188.1 is a reasonable score, considering this is my first season for Montague Corp. I’m sure my coaches and teammates will agree with me when I say that it is certainly something to improve on for next season.” Seung-Gil almost sounded bored, but Victor spotted the way his Adam’s Apple was bobbing furiously and how his dark eyes were starting to be tinged with pink as he fought back tears.

            As he sat down, Victor made a point of patting his shoulder, the gesture startling the younger man. But rather than flinch away, Seung-Gil simply nodded his appreciation to Victor before wordlessly turning back to the rink.

            “Next up is Georgi Popovich,” Laura announced as the Russian waved to the crowd, dressed in a silver dinner jacket over an ice-blue shirt and grey trousers, “he will be skating to “Stay With Me”.”

            Victor groaned and shook his head; Georgi was certainly a glutton for punishment!

            “Has he proven himself enough yet, Anya?” Mila teased her friend with a cocked brow. The brunette huffed in response and stood up, making her way to the changing room.

            “The real question is, haven’t I proven myself enough to that idiot?” she said darkly. Victor shook his head again; he couldn’t see why Georgi would still want to be with someone who made him so miserable.

            ‘Perhaps Yuuri is spoiling me.’ He thought with a deep sigh, indulging in his new favourite pastime of sneaking peeks at the beautiful Japanese man on the other side of the rink. He truly did feel spoiled with all the soft smiles and bright blushes that Yuuri was offering from his seat.

            Having to keep his feelings a secret was killing him and he thought it was so unfair that Georgi was allowed to show the world how he felt, even if it made him look like a fool, whilst he had to pretend he wasn’t so blissfully happy he wanted to sing.

            An idea popped into his head. A brilliant, cunning, fabulous plan that made his eyes sparkle.

            He just had to wait until it was his turn to skate…

            He was so wrapped up in his plan that he completely forgot about Georgi’s routine until he heard the audience applaud. He quickly joined in, shrugging with a lopsided smile when Chris knowingly smirked at him.

            “Penny for your thoughts, or would I have to pay a premium rate?” Chris grinned.

            Victor chuckled. “No charge, because there’s nothing to tell.”

            “Don’t give me that, Victor!” Chris pouted. “You’ve had your head in the clouds for the last two days. I _know_ something happened the other night, so why don’t you just tell me? I didn’t think we kept secrets from each other.”

            Victor raised a quizzical brow. “Oh really? Then does that mean you’ll finally tell me what happened between you and that Puerto Rican barman at the end of last season?”

            Chris’ olive-green eyes nearly popped out of his head. “How did you know about – oh, well played, Nikiforov!” he rolled his eyes as his friend laughed at him, realising he’d been outmatched, for now.

            So he turned back to the Kiss & Cry. Georgi was blowing kisses to the crowd as his score of “99.3” meant that, with a 2.5-point improvement on yesterday, he was currently third from the bottom of the leader board. Whilst Yakov was obviously berating him on his performance, judging by the throbbing vein in the old man’s temple, it meant that Georgi wouldn’t be out of the competition.

            The Russian skater breathed a sigh of relief as he rejoined his teammates, only to frown when he noticed that Anya wasn’t there.

            “Where is she?” he asked.

            “If by “she” you mean that ice princess, she got bored of your bellyaching and left.” Seung-Gil said rather bluntly, much to everyone’s surprise; Victor didn’t think the newcomer had said more than five words to any of them since he’d joined the team.

            Georgi’s eyes flashed menacingly at the Korean. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

            Seung-Gil matched his glare. “I’m not sure I care.”

            Chris jumped between the two just as Georgi took a step forward. “Alright, ladies, put the handbags away! I’ll not have your little spat upstage my program.”

            Victor smirked; trust Chris to turn the situation to suit him. Nonetheless, Georgi sat as far away from Seung-Gil as he could in their box, arms crossed, and Seung-Gil turned his back to the others to check his phone, reading messages from his supporters.

            Chris was dressed in a shimmering white costume with long silky sleeves, his blonde curls were sprayed with silver glitter with a silver fascinator pinned just above his left temple. A tiny white rose was fastened to his wrist like a corsage.

            “Is that…Christophe Giacometti?” John spluttered as the Swiss skater glided onto the ice.

            “It certainly is!” Laura laughed, “I’m sure his fans will appreciate his choice of song for today’s program: “Like A Virgin”!”

            The arena filled with laughter as Chris blew kisses, fluttering his eyelashes at the screaming fans in the front row. As he got to the centre of the rink, he curtsied to the judges before taking his starting position – hands crossed over his heart, his left foot hooked gracefully behind his right, eyes cast down in mock shyness.

            As the music started, he spun on the spot in a pirouette, kicking his foot out in time with the beat to propel himself, before going into a forward crossover, onto his first jump combination – a double loop-double salchow. All the while he fluttered his eyelashes and pouted his glossed lips, his fingertips brushing the air around him like he was stroking silk.

            ‘How’s this for “predictable”?’ he thought with grin, the commentator’s comment from the day before still stinging him.

            “Who the fuck does he think he’s kidding?” Yurio spat as Chris’ spread eagle made the audience cheer, “Virgin, my ass!”

            “I hope it is, at your age!” Sara laughed, making the teenager blush furiously.

            “You know what I meant!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

            “You do know the song isn’t about her actually being a virgin, right?” Michele teased with a raised brow; it wasn’t often that they got to tease Yurio and he intended to make his teammate blush even more.

            “Of course I fucking know! I’m not an idiot!”

            “The audience seems to be getting the joke too.” Yuuri noted shrewdly. A heavy silence fell amongst his teammates as they continued to watch their opponent. The audience were lapping up Chris’ program, laughing at his flirtatious gestures, cheering his jumps, even gasping in shock as he missed his cue and momentarily was a step behind the music until his final jump (a triple axel-triple toe loop).

            When he finished, the audience began to throw roses onto the ice, much to the skater’s delight. Yakov and Lilia were forced to wait for ten minutes whilst Chris gathered the flowers, arranging them in his clasped hands into a bouquet.

            “Congratulations to the blushing bride,” Laura chuckled as Chris’ score flashed on the scoreboard – 106.3, “that might be a 2.2 drop on yesterday’s program, but it makes his total 214.8, making Christophe Giacometti top of the leader board!”

            The crowd roared in delight as Chris’ face lit up. He leapt to his feet and pretended to toss his bouquet over his shoulder, making Lilia flinch next to him. But Victor spotted the blush on her cheeks when a smiling Chris handed the flowers to her.

            Victor shook his head fondly.

            ‘First Minami, now Chris – maybe by the GPF we’ll have thawed her frozen heart altogether!’

            Yurio crossed his arms and sank further into his seat, gritting his teeth.

            “If that shithead gets gold at this stage, I’ll slit my wrists with my skates.”

            Celestino turned in his seat to glare at the teenager. “You know, I’m getting really fed up with this little act of yours. You don’t want Chris to get gold? Then when you get on the ice, you show this crowd who the better skater is! Don’t sit there spewing that vile language and acting like the world’s against you!”

            Even Yuuri sat a little straighter; that was the first time he had heard his coach say anything remotely harsh. But it seemed to have the desired effect, judging by the firm line formed on Yurio’s lips. The teenager quickly nodded at Celestino before turning his cat-like eyes back to the rink, just as Otabek made his entrance.

            The Kazakhstani skater wore an elaborate, bright-green cavalry jacket with gold tassels on the shoulder pads over black pants. Yurio frowned; it was clearly another uniform, but not in the same style as the one he wore the day before. Did that mean there was going to be a link between his two programs?

            As a trumpet fanfare blasted over the sound system, Otabek gave the audience a straight-backed salute before gliding into a backwards spread eagle. Once the lyrics began, he spun into a double toe loop – double lutz – double flip combination.

            Yuuri noticed Yurio sit forward, his green eyes sparkling as Otabek swayed gracefully in time with the music.

            “The clever bastard!” the teenager breathed.

            “Huh?” Yuuri frowned at him. Yurio turned to him, a wicked grin making his thin face glow.

            “Haven’t you figured out the link between the two songs? Think about it – “War (What is it Good For)” and “All You Need Is Love”; he’s chosen two songs that sound totally different but have the same theme!”

            Celestino turned his head, the corner of his mouth curling.

            “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you say something positive about someone else, Yurio.” the Italian coach teased. “Did I hear you right, or am I going deaf in my old age?”

            “Shut up – you’re not that old yet!” Yurio’s cheeks burned, but he turned back to the rink. He watched intensely as the crowd began to clap in time with the music, as Otabek crouched low before flying into a split jump, as the Kazakhstani skater quickly recovered from a misstep out of a salchow. He’d never say it out loud, but this guy was…

            Actually pretty cool.

            So when he was scored “99.6”, 0.3 points less than the day before, Yurio jumped out of his seat and shook his fist at the judges.

            “What the hell? They’re being too picky! He should have hit the hundred bracket for that program!”

            Minako placed a soothing hand on his shoulder, making him face her deep eyes. “As noble as it is to finally see you support someone, try not to wind the judges up; especially as you’re up next.”

            The blonde teenager nodded solemnly, his shiny hair bouncing against his shoulders as Minako led the way to the rink, Celestino closing in behind him. He shrugged off his Team Capulet jacket and handed it to Celestino before pushing onto the ice.

            His costume was a black-and-white jumper under a black blazer, a thin stripe of glitter along the lapel and cuffs, finished with black leggings. His hair had been backcombed until it almost looked like a lion’s mane on his slender shoulders.

            “And now the youngest member of Team Capulet will be skating to “Kids of America”,” John explained as Yurio stood in the centre of the ice, hands crossed behind his back in a defiant pose, “let’s see what this kid can do!”

            ‘Just watch this!’ Yurio thought boldly as an electric keyboard filled the arena with a fast beat. He’d decided to make his routine as technically- based as possible, starting with a fast scratch spin into a triple salchow. He raced around the rink, kicking his feet furiously to send icy sprays into the air.

            Georgi spat on the floor in disgust. “A Russian teenager promoting the American lifestyle! Ridiculous!”

            Victor raised a shocked eyebrow at the dark-haired man. “Excuse me, if you recall I did a routine to “Surfin’ USA” during my Junior years and no one questioned _my_ nationality.”

            Chris sniggered next to him. “True, but I think the fact that you were only wearing Bermuda shorts might have had something to do with that!”

            Victor grimaced at the memory, his cheeks turning rosy. “What the hell possessed me to do that? I nearly froze to death!”

            Chris laughed. “I’m sure the silver medal made up for it!”

            Victor shrugged, continuing to watch Yurio as he brought his leg up into a straight line against his spine, gliding smoothly. He could see that the teenager had a lot of potential, provided that he didn’t let people like Chris and Georgi get to him.

            ‘Such a large chip on such a tiny shoulder.’ He mused sadly, shaking his head as his teammates whispered behind their hands. Had they always been like this? Was he like this once upon a time? Had Yuuri changed him so much, or had he simply opened his eyes?

            He began to hope that, once they got to the Final, more people’s eyes would be opened.

            “That was a tremendous program from Yurio Plisetsky!” Laura gushed as the teenager joined Minako and Celestino at the Kiss & Cry, “and it seems that the judges feel the same way – his score of “107.2” is the best score of the night so far!”

            Yurio, however, didn’t seem to share the commentator’s sentiment.

            “That means I’m below Chris by 1.2 points!” he scowled, stomping back to Team Capulet’s seating area with a huff.

            It appeared that the Swiss skater had also worked out the maths, as he waved cheekily across the rink at him. Cupping his hands around his glossed lips, he yelled “Hey Yurio! How do you like being under me?” and Celestino had to physically pick up the teenager and drag him to their changing room, profanities echoing down the corridor.

            Yuuri sighed and shook his head, turning to Yuuko, who was now sat in the row behind him as she began to prep her kit for after the competition.

            “I don’t get it, Yuuko; why is Yurio so angry all the time? I mean, I get the whole thing with Chris – that guy is clearly out to wind him up! But what else is there?”

            Yuuko sighed deeply and quickly glanced at Minako. She began to talk once the coach curtly nodded her approval.

            “You see, when Yurio was ten years old, he applied to Montague Corp. He wanted to join their Junior division and compete internationally and he knew the St Petersburg base would be easier for him and his grandpa to move to. But they rejected him; at the time, Yurio’s grandpa was under investigation by the Russian government – all false accusations, the old guy is about as gruff as a teddy bear – but Montague Corp told the boy that they wouldn’t allow someone with “such a shady background” into its ranks,” Yuuko raised her hands to make air quotes with an appalled twitch of her lip before she continued, “It broke his heart, hearing them say such horrible things about the man who raised him, who went without shoes just so he could get new skates, who was there for every practice and competition, no matter how ill or tired he felt. He’s never forgiven them for that.”

            “He had to compete as an Independent until he was twelve,” Minako added, making Yuuri spin his head in her direction, “and let me tell you, being that young without an affiliation to a major team is incredibly difficult – I still don’t know how Nikolai managed to afford the fees and travel expenses, but Yurio was always the one to watch. It was like he fought ten times harder than any other skater, just to prove those Montague bastards wrong for casting him aside.”

            Yuuko smiled sadly in agreement. “I remember watching him on tv the day he signed his contract with Team Capulet as a Junior – I was expecting him to be beaming from ear to ear, but he looked so…solemn. Like he had put up this invisible wall around himself, making him unreachable.”

            “It took Celestino a whole season to make the lad trust him,” Minako said gloomily, “to make him see that he didn’t care about any rumours about his grandpa or him, that he genuinely thought he was an incredible skater and that he could depend on him. Yurio never depended on anyone before Celestino.”

            Yuuri sat back, gobsmacked. He almost wanted to run to their changing room and give Yurio a hug (even though he knew the teenager would probably punch him for it). Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he glanced over at Montague Corp’s box.

            ‘Does Victor know about all this?’ he wondered, staring at the laughing skaters, his hands curling into fists in his lap as the thought that they were somehow all part of his teammate’s misery began to claw at his mind, ‘Surely he would have done something to help if he knew?’

            Victor glanced up at that moment and caught his eye, nervously flashing him a small smile and twisting a lock of his silver hair to hide a wave. Yuuri couldn’t help but smile back – no, Victor wasn’t part of it. Something in his gut was certain of that.

            But he made a note to mention it; maybe Victor needed to know about what was going on behind the scenes, just in case something happened to him in the future.

            Like once they got to the Final…

            His overactive imagination would have probably conjured up all kinds of worst-case scenarios if JJ hadn’t started his routine and the deafening crowd hadn’t made him jump.

            Dressed in a translucent black catsuit with black faux feathers jutting out of the shoulder-pads, cuffs and waistband, the Canadian strutted and posed as he glided around the ice.

            “Wow,” Sara whispered, her cheeks flushing, “he’s actually kind of hot – for an idiot!” she added quickly when Michele glowered at her.

            Yuuri was staring hard at JJ, but not for the same reason as Sara; he was captivated by how effortless JJ made his high-difficulty jump combinations seem – his double salchow-triple flip-double salchow would have made Yuuri dizzy, but JJ might as well as have been taking a stroll around the rink, judging by his easy smile. Yuuri continued to stare, trying to memorise how JJ tucked his arms close to his chest before taking a deep breath, how he put his weight onto his left foot rather than his right to launch into a jump, how he splayed his fingers ever-so-slightly to balance himself. He was sure that, somehow, he could emulate some these moves, if he practised hard enough.

            “Incredible!” John exclaimed at the end of the program, “what a spellbinding routine – it was like that song was written for him!”

            Laura laughed. “Yes, that really was “Simply The Best”. And his score of “112.4” surpasses Yurio’s, making his total “222.3” – I don’t want to speak too soon, but it looks like we’ve just witnessed tonight’s winning routine.”

            As JJ struck his signature pose in the Kiss & Cry, much to the delight to nearby spectators, the other skaters sank back into their seats with a deflated groan.

            “I’m not even going to look at Facebook tonight,” Michele said with a huff, “you just know it’s going to be filled with his smug face!”

            Yuuri wasn’t listening. It was his turn. With shaking legs, he made his way to the rink with Minako and Celestino. As he shrugged his tracksuit jacket off, he closed his eyes and tried to remember everything Victor had said to him the night before, but all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. He didn’t even hear Minako wish him luck as he pushed onto the ice.

            ‘I’m ready,’ he told himself as he stared down at the glittering ice, ‘I have to be.’

            Victor sat up a little straighter and gazed at his boyfriend. A shrewd smile grew on his lips, making the connection between his costume and the music before a single note had even played.

            Dressed in a deep purple costume embellished with gold and red designs along the sleeves and legs, gold and red fleur-de-lis adorning his back and gold tassels fluttering from his cuffs as he skated, Yuuri was indeed a magical sight.

            “Next up is Yuuri Katsuki,” Laura said quietly as the Japanese skater made the unusual choice to start his routine kneeling on the ice, eyes cast down, “his routine is to the song “A Whole New World”.”

            Yuuri caught the curious gasps of the spectators and drew a deep breath.

            ‘ _Take me on a magical journey_ , _watashi no ai.’_

            A ghost of a smile played on his lips, the tiniest flutter made his heart pitch in his chest. He knew who he was skating for, who he was ready to whisk away on his carpet ride.

            And, for once, it wasn’t the thousands of spectators or even the judges.

            The music began. Yuuri slowly raised his head, bringing his hands up in front of his chest until they were pointing straight up. He arched his back as he brought his left foot up first, balancing carefully on the blade as he rose. He spun once, letting his eyes cast over the entire arena, drawing every single pair of eyes in to his story, sweeping his hands out majestically.

_I can show you the world_

_Shining, shimmering, splendid_

            A cantilever into a spread eagle. Then onto a camel spin, both arms stretched above his head. A double axel-triple toe loop combination. Yuuri felt his routine flow through him, just as the melody flowed over the ice. All the practice Victor had put him though was paying off, much to his delight.

            ‘I am the magic carpet,’ he told himself, ‘I can soar over star-studded skies, sweep over majestic deserts and float on the tops of the clouds. I can take them – no, I can take _him_ – anywhere his heart desires.’

            Victor hid his grin behind his hands, but he knew there was no way to hide the sparkle in his eyes as he watched Yuuri. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as the beautiful man executed a stunning Biellmann spin, bringing his right leg up behind him until it was parallel with his spine. His heart jumped to his throat as the routine went on, and Victor was sure he just fell even more in love with Yuuri, if that was even possible.

            Though he made a few minor mistakes – he still needed to work on his transitions – Yuuri was like a totally different person on the ice; gone was the stressed, frustrated student that he’d seen the night before, replaced by a calm, focused creature of beauty.

            ‘If this doesn’t get more than a hundred points, I’ll personally complain to the WSF!’ he thought with a dreamy sigh. He just about managed to pass the sigh off as a yawn when Chris glanced over his shoulder at him, feeling a surge of agitation.

            It was so frustrating not to cheer for his Yuuri!

            ‘Just wait until your program,’ he told himself with a sly smile, remembering his little plan as Yuuri’s program ended with a wonderful slow camel sit spin.

            As Yuuri made his way to the Kiss & Cry, he risked a glance in Victor’s direction rather than looking at Celestino and Minako.

            ‘It should be Victor waiting for me at the Kiss & Cry,’ he thought sadly, ‘he’s the one who coached me.’

            Victor stood up, making his way to the rink with Yakov and Lilia walking behind him. Pushing the silver fringe from in front of his eyes, he took advantage of how his face was now hidden behind his arm. He smiled sweetly at Yuuri, mouthing the word “magic” to the wide-eyed young man.

            It took every ounce of strength left in Yuuri’s exhausted body not to beam at Victor as he sat with his coaches, waiting for his score.

            “And Yuuri Katsuki receives a score of “111.3”, making his total “209.4”!” Laura cheered excitedly as the arena filled with applause.

            Yuuri’s face split into a grin as Minako hugged him tight. He was safely through to the next round.

            He’d done it!

            He ran back to Team Capulet’s box, his body humming with excitement, not wanting to miss a single moment of Victor’s routine.

            ‘I did it!’ he thought excitedly, his cheeks growing sore from his inane grin, ‘I actually did it! I’m through to the next round. I’m going to keep skating on the same ice as Victor.’

            He allowed his inner fanboy a moment of triumph before focusing on his secret boyfriend’s routine.

            “And finally, we have Victor Nikiforov,” Laura practically sighed as she read out his name, much to Yuuri’s amusement – clearly that name didn’t just affect him like that, “and tonight’s program is set to be completely different from last night’s.”

            “Indeed,” John’s voice was a little cool, almost as if he was jealous of the way Laura had sighed the skater’s name, “he’s chosen the pop song “Reggaeton Lento”, which has certainly surprised his fans, judging by their comments on social media.”

            Yuuri smiled to himself. Being a lifelong fan of Victor’s, he knew there was nothing the Russian liked better than surprising his audience.

            Though he was probably the most surprised; not by the choice of song, but rather the choice of costume.

            Because he found he was getting, rather quickly, distracted by Victor’s costume. A tight deep-red shirt, almost identical to the one he wore on the night they met, tucked into black leggings. The shirt was covered in red sequins that caught the spotlights, making it look like he was covered in rubies. It was unbuttoned and Yuuri’s eyes followed the thin line of the fabric that revealed alabaster skin from his collarbone, past a hint of toned abs to his naval.

            Yuuri audibly gulped, feeling his face burn bright red. He was grateful that he could pass his blushes off as still being exhausted from his routine, because he would have dreaded having to explain such a reaction to a competitor’s costume.

            ‘He…he looks…’ his brain threatened to explode as his eyes continued beyond the waistband of those black leggings to the firm shape of the thighs that filled them. He forced his eyes upwards before they dared to travel lower and instantly regretted it when he saw the sultry glint in Victor’s sapphire eyes. Even though he wasn’t looking directly at him, Yuuri felt like he was seeking him out, the intensity of his stare searching for him.

            ‘He looks…sexy!’

            As the guitar began to play, filling the awestruck arena with anticipation, Victor swayed his hands around his head, swirling the cold air like ribbons, as he rolled his hips in time with the music. Pushing on one foot, he slid backwards into a lazy spin, his cerulean eyes heavy-lidded.

            As the lyrics sang of seduction, Yuuri felt the muscles in his stomach tighten and heat up, like someone had set his chair on fire. He clamped his jaw tight, afraid that if he so much as drew a breath he would draw attention to himself, to his flushing cheeks, to the nervous dew of sweat that was trailing down his temple. He watched, spellbound, as Victor ran one hand down his stomach to his waist, the other sliding behind his neck to push into his starlight hair before gliding into a layback spin followed by a quad axel.

            _He’s like sex on ice! I’m actually afraid this routine might impregnate me!_

Yuuri made a noise that sounded like a cross between a squeak and a loud hiccup as Victor suddenly lunged forward, bringing his left leg high behind him, his arms outstretched on either side in a spiral. He had no idea where that ridiculous thought had come from and he was grateful that no one could read his mind – he’d have hell to pay, trying to explain why his eyes were trailing over that upstretched leg, past the thigh towards-

            He made that noise again, this time making Minako turn to him with a frown. He quickly fumbled with his water bottle and chugged back the liquid until he felt his lungs sting for air. Swallowing the water, he told himself to get a grip – it wasn’t like Victor was trying to seduce him, right now, in front of thousands of people…

            Right?

            Victor’s smile as he skated was dark, drawing Yuuri’s attention to his full lips. He was so captivated that he barely noticed when Victor suddenly changed direction, moving closer to where he was sitting.

            “What in the world is he doing?” Yakov spluttered at the Kiss & Cry. “He’s going out of his routine!”

            Lilia narrowed her eyes and hummed low. “It appears he’s going for another surprise. I just hope it doesn’t cost him points.”

            Before the old man could demand a less cryptic answer, he stared slack-jawed as his champion skated closer to Team Capulet’s area.

            “Chert voz’mi!” he cried out, hoping to god he was wrong.

            He wasn’t.

_I tell you, baby, you, baby, you, get me hotter_

_Your loving make me sick, make me sick, you my doctor_

            Victor grinned wickedly as he found what he was looking for – a wide-eyed, blushing Yuuri, staring straight at him. As the lyrics blasted over the sound system, Victor drew his tongue over his lower lip, making it glisten in the bright lights.

            Then the audience gasped as he raised his hand and blew a kiss at Yuuri.

            Yuuri thought his heart stopped. Did that just happen?!

            Judging by the way Yuuko, Minako and Sara gasped and yelled incredulously as Victor slid away into a split jump, it obviously did.

            Yuuri sat frozen in his seat, his face was almost certainly the same shade of red as Victor’s shirt. Why the hell did Victor just do that? What would people think? What was _he_ supposed to think?!

            Pockets of spectators began to vocalise their opinions, friction and tension mounting in the crowd until Yuuri began to see people being separated by security guards.

            “He did that on purpose to shock the newcomer!” a girl in a Team Capulet hoodie yelled.

            “It’s all part of his routine! He always surprises people!” a young man holding a Montague Corp banner laughed.

            “He should have points deducted for such a cheap shot!”

            “He should be awarded points for comic value!”

            Victor grinned at Yakov as he joined his coaches at the Kiss & Cry, revelling in how the older man’s eyes looked like they were about to burst out of his skull.

            “What – in – the name of – god – was _that_ all about?!” Yakov screamed in his face.

            Victor shrugged, unable to keep his smile from growing. “I like to surprise people.”

            “Surprise them, by all means, with your skating,” Lilia scowled, “but you shouldn’t be lowering yourself to such a stunt at your age. I’d expect that from one of their skaters, not you!”

            Victor shook his head, still smiling. He paid no attention to the bustling crowd or his screeching coaches. He was too busy looking at Yuuri, at his adorable, blushing face.

            His plan had worked better than he’d planned.

            _If Georgi can show Anya how he feels, then I can show Yuuri how I feel!_

            And he had managed to do it and still keep their secret! The crowd, the judges, even his team, thought he had done it to mock Team Capulet. He just hoped that Yuuri didn’t think that.

            He could see that Yuuri was clearly shocked by his performance, his chocolate eyes wide and unblinking. He just wished that he knew what he was thinking.

            “Are you alright, Yuuri?”

            Yuuri was shaken from his thoughts by Celestino, who’d returned with Yurio just as the scores were about to be announced. Yuuri blinked wildly at his coach, not sure of what to say.

            Was he alright? His secret boyfriend had just blown a kiss at him in front of thousands of people. How was he supposed to feel? Stunned? Embarrassed?

            Excited.

            Yes, that was the emotion that outshone the others. He placed a hand over his pounding heart and willed it to relax, a soft smile tugging on his mouth. He realised that Celestino was still hovering over him and quickly nodded to him.

            “Umm, yeah, I-I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

            “You looked a little…I don’t know, shocked.” His coach replied, a hint of a frown pulling his dark eyebrows together.

            Yuuri forced out what he hoped sounded like a laugh. “I’m just glad I got my program out of the way before he did that – I’d hate for people to think that Victor Nikiforov could intimidate me!”

            Celestino seemed to be satisfied by what he said and he sat back down with a relaxed smile. Yuuri turned his eyes back to where Victor was sitting at the Kiss & Cry and smiled to himself, that warm feeling of excitement rising in his chest again.

            He was excited that Victor would do something so bold just for him. Excited that no one other than him knew why he had done it. Excited that he liked it!

            John coughed awkwardly into his microphone as he prepared to read out Victor’s score. “Well, umm…that was certainly a surprising program from Victor Nikiforov. And he’s certainly surprised the judges – his score of “109.9” is lower than yesterday’s score by 0.1 points.”

            “But,” Laura clarified as the spectators began to shout their protests, “it means his total score is “219.7”, which means that Victor Nikiforov finishes this First Heat in second place!”

            The crowd erupted with applause as the leader board flashed every skater’s score, showing JJ in first place, Victor in second and Chris in third.

            “Hah!” Yurio laughed coldly, “Seung-Gil and Minami are out – Montague Corp’s lost two skaters in one go and we haven’t lost anyone!”

            His feelings seemed to be shared by the rest of the team as they hugged and high-fived each other. Yuuri sank back into his seat and breathed a sigh of relief.

            He was through to the Second Heat. He was one step closer to revealing his love to the whole world. A part of him was terrified that he might actually pull this off, that he would actually have to put himself in such a risky position.

            But as he followed the rest of his team onto the ice for the closing event, he caught sight of Victor coming in the opposite direction and another part of him grew bold.

            ‘I can do this,’ he thought, ‘for him. For us.’

            Team Capulet stood in a straight line on one side of the ice, Montague Corp on the other, with the Independents between them. A fanfare introduced Anton Escales and his presentation team as they skated onto the ice, much to the delight of the crowd.

            “There’s life in the old dog yet!” Escales grinned into his microphone as he spun on one foot, laughter rippling though the arena, “I’m sure you’ll join me in congratulating all our skaters on an amazing First Heat,” he paused as he waited for the applause to die down, “but I’m afraid we must say goodbye to Minami Kenjirou and Seung-Gil Lee at this stage.”

            He beckoned the two skaters forward, shaking their hands warmly before presenting them with a small bouquet of white roses. Yuuri watched as they moved off the ice with two of Escales’ team; Minami looked like he was about to burst into tears and Yuuri’s heart went out to the young lad.

            “And now, I’d like to ask you all to join me in congratulating our winners – Christophe Giacometti, Victor Nikiforov and Jean-Jacques Leroy.” As the three men met Escales in the centre of the rink so he could thread a small medal over their heads, Yuuri and the other competitors were each given a crown made of roses as a consolation prize. Yuuri nearly choked when he saw that his was made of blue roses.

            Just like Victor’s crown from last year!

            “And now, ladies and gentlemen, that concludes the First Heat of the Grand Prix. I hope to see you all here again in two weeks’ time for the Second Heat. I want to take a moment to wish all our skaters luck, with their practise and training, and hope to be even more amazed than I have been tonight!”

            As everyone was ushered off the ice, Victor slowly moved until he was level with Yuuri. Yuuri didn’t dare look up, but he felt the taller man’s presence at his shoulder.

            Victor swallowed his heart back into his chest, keeping his eyes directed in front of him as he reached his hand out to his side.

            Yuuri felt his fingers twitch of their own accord, gasping as they found Victor’s outstretched hand.

            Both men felt electricity as their knuckles brushed together.

            The spark was instantly put out as Yurio slammed his shoulder into Victor, wedging himself between the taller Russian and Yuuri. His crown of yellow roses slipped to one side as he glared at Victor.

            “You’ll pay for that little stunt, asshole!” he hissed before turning his back on Victor.

            Yuuri stared between Yurio and Victor for a few seconds, unsure of how he should act. Should he act as outraged as his teammate, or as cool as his lover?

            Victor appeared totally unphased by Yurio’s threat; in fact, he smiled crookedly at Yuuri as he moved to join his team.

            What he whispered under his breath, just loud enough for only Yuuri to hear, made the younger man’s knees buckle at the implication:

            “God, I hope so!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Our boys made it through!
> 
> Coming up next...time for some fluff! Grab your snuggliest blanket and get comfy as Yuuri and Victor...
> 
> TUNE IN NEXT WEEK TO FIND OUT XD
> 
> Your comments are what give me strength, so drop me a line xxx


	17. For Icy Limits Cannot Hold Love Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Heat is over, but there's no rest for the wicked as practise gets underway for the Second Heat.  
> At least, that's the plan the coaches have in mind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap yourselves in! Major excitement coming!!

           Celestino rubbed one hand over his eyes, sighing loudly. He could hear Minako bark at their skaters, clapping her hands in agitation. Glancing at the large clock on the wall, he groaned under his breath when he saw it was only half-past eight – only thirty minutes since practise started.

            It had been three days since the First Heat had come to an end and today’s training session was proving to be a total disaster; Michele and Sara were constantly bickering about her new boyfriend – the guy from the club, who was actually called Valentino (not that Michele cared!) – and Yurio had broken his phone for the third time, throwing it with a snarl, sending it flying into the wall.

            Celestino was just grateful that Escales had arranged for each team to be assigned separate smaller rinks for practise between Heats – he doubted the teenager would behave himself within a hundred miles of Montague Corp in his current mood.

            “Yurio, for the millionth time – stop looking at Facebook during training!” Celestino groaned, stooping to retrieve the smashed phone. “You have to learn to ignore their posts. If you keep getting wound up, they’re winning.”

            Yurio made a guttural sound in his throat. “Easy for you to say, Celestino – you’re not the one they’re writing about! That dickhead Chris - ”

            “Why do you even follow Chris?” the coach sighed. “Just block him.”

            “And let him know he got to me?!”

            Celestino threw his hands up in the air and walked away; it was clear he was never going to win that argument.

            He spotted Yuuri on the far side of the rink, away from the rest of the team. Even he seemed distracted today, constantly glancing at his watch or slyly checking his phone between practising salchows.

            “Come on, guys!” Minako yelled, punctuating her words with a clap. “The Second Heat is in ten days’ time – this is not the time to get sloppy!”

            But her words seemed to be falling on deaf ears. As each skater spun or jumped, it was obvious that their hearts just weren’t in it.

            Celestino walked over to Yuuko and Takeshi, the two physiotherapists preparing their kits for the skaters’ cool-down. Yuuko was watching Yuuri, a frown wrinkling her pretty face.

            “I’m really worried about him,” she said with a nod of her head in her friend’s direction, “if he starts to feel the pressure, his anxiety might get the better of him. I know he’ll never forgive himself if he crumbles at this stage.”

            “If this atmosphere keeps up, Yuuri won’t be the only one who cracks.” Takeshi muttered sagely just as Yurio snarled furiously, picking himself up off the ice after a tumble.

            Celestino put a finger to his chin, humming deep in thought for a few minutes, before calling everyone to the edge of the rink. Everyone glided over apprehensively; they weren’t due to finish practise until midday and it was unusual for Celestino to stop them prematurely.

            “Seems like you’ve all earned a break.” the Italian coach said with a gentle smile, which only grew at the curious frowns that faced him. “Look, what’s the point in working yourselves into the ground at this stage? I won’t have any of you burning out on me so, as of right now, the weekend is yours to do with as you please.”

            Everyone gasped in shock.

            “Seriously?” Yurio blinked, stunned. “The whole weekend?”

            Celestino nodded with a smirk. “On one condition – stay out of trouble. Keep out of Montague Corp’s way or don’t come back on Monday. Up to you.”

            Yurio’s emerald eyes narrowed. “Why are you looking at me when you say that?”

            “Now really, Yurochka,” a gravelly voice caught the teenager’s attention as it travelled from the door, “is that any way to speak to your coach?”

            Yurio’s thin face lit up instantly, an enormous grin stretching his lips as he scrambled to the gate. He jumped off the ice and ran to the tall man with broad shoulders who had just entered, a loving smile almost hidden behind his greying moustache and beard.

            “Grandpa!” Yurio cheered brightly, leaping into his grandfather’s open arms.

            He instantly regretted his actions, as the old man cried out in pain, stumbling backwards. Yurio jumped back, his face paling as his grandpa doubled up, his large hands rubbing his back and hips.

            “Der’mo! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, grandpa! I forgot about your bad back! Are you alright? Can you stand up? Do you need to sit down?” Yurio immediately began to fuss over his grandpa, his hands flailing as he didn’t know whether to hold the man’s arm or his back.

            Celestino ran over and put a hand under the older man’s arm, helping him to the bench. “Anything broken, Nikolai?” he asked gently, watching Yurio’s eyes widen in terror.

            Nikolai chuckled, shrugging Celestino’s hand away. “Nothing that a weekend with this little smel’chak won’t fix.” He reached up to ruffle his grandson’s hair, the teenager breathing deep with relief before sitting down next to him, grinning.

            Celestino smiled; he knew it had been a good idea to surprise Yurio with a visit from his grandpa. He could see the angst melt away as they chatted in Russian, no doubt already making plans for the weekend.

            Sara began typing furiously on her phone, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she smiled.

            “Who are you texting?” Michele asked, trying to peek over her shoulder.

            Sara rolled her eyes and moved away from her brother. “Valentino, of course!”

            “Say, Mikey,” Takeshi plopped his chubby hand on the younger man’s shoulder, startling him just as he was about to start another argument with his sister, “how do you fancy coming with me and Celestino to watch the match? It’s Inter Milan versus Villa Roma – isn’t one of them your favourite team?”

            Michele grinned at Takeshi. “Si. Villa Roma!”

            “Alright then, shall we make this interesting?” the Japanese man smirked as Michele raised a curious brow, pursing his lips. “If Villa Roma win, I’ll clean your skates after every practise for a week. If Inter Milan win, you’re buying my dinner for a week – just don’t tell my wife, she doesn’t like it when I gamble.”

            “I heard that!” Yuuko called, making her husband flinch.

            Michele laughed. “Okay, you’re on. But you should know that Villa Roma are totally going to win.”

            Sara breathed a sigh of relief as Takeshi gently nudged him towards the door, keeping the Italian lad’s attention away from his sister as they began to discuss each team’s tactics.

            “Your husband is a genius.” She smiled at Yuuko.

            Yuuko smiled sweetly. “Don’t tell him that – I’ll never hear the end of it!”

            She began to clear away her kit as Sara made her way out. She spotted Yuuri sat on a bench, staring at his phone intensely. He didn’t even notice when she sat down next to him, jumping a little when she cleared her throat.

            “If you want, we can go back to the hotel together and tell your mum and dad that you’ve got the weekend off. I’m sure they’ll be happy to spend some time with you after all your hard work in the First Heat.”

            Yuuri felt his heart twist, a bead of sweat forming on his temple.

            _Oh yeah. Mum and dad. Mari. They’re here, remember?_

            Yuuri’s head began to spin as a sneering, mocking voice filled his head. He had just spent the last few minutes practically ready to burst with excitement and was about to text Victor before Yuuko sat down next to him. How on earth was he supposed to spend time with him _and_ his family without upsetting anyone or causing suspicion?

            “Oh…umm…th-the thing is…”

            Yuuko’s eyes narrowed for a moment, confused, before they blew wide, her mouth forming a tiny ‘o’ shape.

            “Yuuri…did you have something planned for this weekend? With…someone else?”

            Yuuri felt his face begin to melt under his friend’s gaze. His tongue felt thick and heavy, his mouth suddenly dry.

            “It’s not what you think!” he squeaked, panic gripping his vocal chords, his hands flailing in front of him.

            “Oh?” Yuuko smiled a tiny knowing smile at him, making him blush even harder. She took one of his trembling hands and patted it affectionately. “Don’t worry; your mum’s actually been asking me and Minako to go shopping with her and Mari – I mean, we _are_ in Italy! And I’ll ask Taka to take your dad to the football with him and the other guys.”

            It took Yuuri a moment to realise what she was actually saying. When the penny finally dropped, he breathed a gasping laugh and hugged her tight.

            “Arigato.” He whispered into her ear as she squeezed him back.

            “You did the same for me and Taka in the beginning, if you remember.” She said warmly. “I’m just glad to finally be able to return the favour.”

            With a final hug, Yuuri ran out of the rink and made his way back to the hotel to change out of his training gear, tugging his phone out of his pocket. Once he was a safe distance and, with a quick glance around to make sure no one was around, he scrolled through his contacts until he found a number saved under the initials “LM”.

            Feeling his heart race in his chest, he quickly typed a text:

            “So it turns out I’m free this weekend. All weekend…xxx”

***

_Beep. Beep._

Victor discreetly got his phone out of his tracksuit pocket and smiled as the initials “WNA” appeared onscreen. He glanced around, making sure no one was nearby; thankfully, everyone was in the middle of warming up on the small rink that Montague Corp had been assigned for practise. With a humming heart he tapped on the text, his eyes darting quickly.

            Then he nearly dropped his phone when he read the message!

            He typed his reply furiously, his fingers matching the speed of his heart.

            A whole weekend? A whole weekend that he could spend with his Yuuri? _Seriously_?!

            “Sounds perfect! I’ll text you as soon as I’m out of here <3<3”

            He pressed his phone to his chin, grinning inanely. The very idea of spending so much time with Yuuri was making him feel dizzy and breathless. A thousand thoughts automatically fought for his attention, each one more romantic or ridiculously crazy than the last.

            ‘This is going to be our first date,’ he inwardly squealed. ‘It’s got to be perfect!’

            “Victor!”

            He groaned, all excitement instantly draining away as Yakov shouted at him. Again. There was no way in hell his coach was just going to let him have the weekend off. The last time Yakov let him rest during the GPS, it was because he’d come down with the flu. And even then, the old man had kept a close eye on him, in case he “miraculously recovered” enough to sneak out. He doubted he could fake illness that convincingly.

            Plus, Yakov had been in a particularly foul mood the past three days. He and Lilia prided themselves on training the most decorated skaters in history – to have not one, but two skaters drop out of the First Heat of the Grand Prix was, as far as the coach was concerned, a slight to his pride and an insult to his reputation.

            Lilia hadn’t been much nicer; Victor had seen the woman reduce poor Minami to tears the day after he had been eliminated, screaming at him at the top of her shrill voice until it echoed down the corridors of their hotel. Seung-Gil hadn’t fared much better, though he knew better than to show any weakness in front of the former Prima Ballerina.

            So, between the two of them, Yakov and Lilia had made everyone’s lives hell for the last three days; Mila and Anya had been put on a strict curfew and a ban from dating (something that cheered Georgi up no end!), Seung-Gil and Minami had been put on prep duty – meaning they had to brush the ice smooth before and after each practise session, wash everyone’s training kits _and_ clean and sharpen all of their skates – whilst Georgi, Chris and Victor had been forced to train until it felt like their skates were filled with blood.

            Victor had had enough. Nothing was going to stop him from spending the weekend with Yuuri. He just had to think fast – something he wasn’t exactly known for.

            “Victor!” Yakov yelled again, his gruff voice grating on Victor’s nerves. “Get your ass over here this instant!”

            Victor was about to shove his phone back in his pocket when an idea popped into his head.

            A sneaky, devilishly simple plan.

            “Sukin syn!” he swore out loud, gesturing at his phone with a look of utter disgust on his face. Sure enough, everyone stopped in their tracks to stare at him.

            “What’s got your knickers in a knot?” Chris frowned, panting for breath as he slowed down from a hydroblade.

            “It’s those Team Capulet bastards -” Victor huffed, scowling, “ - they’re bragging that they’ve been given the weekend off.”

            Victor watched jubilantly as a murmur rose between his teammates as they shared gobsmacked glances.

            ‘It’s working!’ he had to remind himself to look frustrated.

            Yakov barked a harsh laugh. “I always knew Celestino was a soft fool, but even I didn’t think he’d be so lenient during a competition. More fool him – now you’ll all have the weekend to become even better than them!”

            “Or,” Victor countered with a raised finger, making sure that everyone was looking at him, “they’ll have the whole weekend to show everyone that we’re so scared of getting beaten that we’re training to the point of exhaustion while they get to sit back and laugh at us.”

            That thought did _not_ sit well with the others. Everyone started talking over each other, waving their arms about as they voiced their outrage.

            “He’s right – they’re probably laughing at us right now!” Mila shouted.

            “We’re already a million times better than they are! We should get the weekend off too!” Georgi growled, his fists clenched at his sides.

            “We can’t win if we’re exhausted!” Chris whined.

            Victor stood there silently, nodding adamantly with his teammates, struggling to keep his smirk under control. He couldn’t believe how easy it had been to rile them all up!

            Lilia clapped her hands once and everyone instantly shut up, waiting for her response with bated breath.

            “Seeing as you all have the energy to whine like little children, may I suggest a challenge to settle the matter?”

            Victor went cold. He did not like the glint in her eyes. And judging by the twitch of her lips, Lilia noticed his discomfort.

            “Whoever executes a perfect routine, without one single mistake, can have the weekend off with my blessing.”

            Yakov spluttered next to her and was about to say something when she snapped her head in his direction. Whatever he was about to say died instantly on his lips and he folded his arms over his chest, glaring at her as she turned back to the skaters.

            “Remember – not one single mistake.” She waved her hand, gesturing for them to line up on the ice.

            The skaters eagerly scrambled to the far side of the rink, shoving and pushing each other until they’d finally decided on who was going to go first. Mila grinned as she made her way to the centre of the rink and began her routine.

            However, Lilia frowned and shook her head once she had finished.

            “No – very lacklustre. No sensuality whatsoever.” Her harsh words made the redhead’s jaw drop.

            The group began to tremble, realisation creeping up on them.

            Lilia had no intention of letting them have the weekend off!

            Nevertheless, Anya stepped up to perform her program, making a conscious decision to amp up the sensuality in the sway of her hips and the flick of her hair. But Lilia’s frown only darkened.

            “Disgraceful! You are supposed to be graceful and elegant – you are a skater, not a pole dancer!”

            Anya looked like she was either going to curse out loud or burst into tears. She hung her head as she joined Mila, Minami and Seung-Gil off the ice, her shoulders shaking.

            Chris drew a deep breath and snapped his neck from side to side, but it did little to relieve the tension in his shoulders. He almost passed out on the ice when he finished, pushing himself harder than he ever had during a competition.

            ‘A weekend off is a better prize than any medal.’ He thought as he fought to catch his breath.

            For a moment, it looked like Lilia was about to smile and Chris’ eyes lit up hopefully. But she shook her head and his heart plummeted to his stomach.

            “Not bad, but you need more height in your jumps - ”

            “Are you kidding?” he asked incredulously. “If I jump any higher in that split, I’ll break my neck when I land!”

            “Then you clearly need to practise your landings as well.” Lilia snapped harshly, eyes flashing venomously. With a scowl and a huff, Chris trudged to join the others.

            Lilia turned her attention to Georgi. “Mister Popovich, whenever you’re ready.”

            Victor could see his teammate tremble under her cold gaze. The poor guy looked absolutely terrified! Sure enough, he tumbled out of his first jump and his coach stopped him there and then.

            “I’ve seen enough, Georgi. I’ll be spending more time with you to discuss your choreography – if you can’t even manage one jump, clearly we need to make some changes.”

            Georgi slinked away and leaned on the barrier wall, wrapping his arms over his head and groaned remorsefully; the idea of Lilia tearing his program to shreds was enough to make him want to hide.

            Victor grinned as they all awaited his routine. He kept his eyes locked on Lilia’s, refusing to buckle under the intense weight of her stare.

            ‘I’m doing this for Yuuri.’ The thought made him feel bold, empowered.

            He blocked all other thoughts as he glided through his routine. Every time he landed a jump, he imagined Yuuri cheering for him. When his step sequence was elegant, he could see his lover smiling at him. As he perfectly completed every jump combination, he heard Yuuri’s sweet voice telling him how he loved him.

            As he took his final position he saw, with utter glee, how Lilia’s eyes were wide with shock, how her thin lips gaped open and shut several times like a floundering fish. He turned his head and, sure enough, everyone else had the same look on their paled faces.

            Gasping for breath, cheeks flushed, he skated to the other side of the rink and stepped off. Wordlessly, he removed his skates and proceeded to change into his black plimsoles.

            “H-hey,” Yakov called over, “where do you think you’re going?”

            Victor’s smile put the spotlights to shame. “Back to the hotel to get changed.”

            Yakov spluttered, eyes bulging. “Nobody said you could go!”

            Victor ignored his coach and turned to the door, attempting to keep the spring out of his step until he got outside. As he got to the door, he turned back to his gawping teammates. With a cheeky wink and smile, he waved at them.

            “Enjoy your weekend, guys. Poka!”

            Anya and Mila stared at each other, jaws slack, before turning to Georgi and Chris. Georgi ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck.

            “Does anyone else have the feeling that…we just got played?” he muttered, not wanting Lilia to hear in case she yelled at him. The coach looked like she was ready to scream, her left eye twitching slightly as she glared after Victor, and the Russian skater did not want to be her target.

            Chris’ eyes narrowed as he stared at Victor’s back, watching him leave.

            Something was off. Had been off since that night at the club.

            But before he could dwell on it, Lilia shrieked at them all to get back to their practise – immediately!

            Outside, Victor stood for a moment to enjoy the warm sun on his face, the breeze through his hair. Somehow, such a simple thing as the weather seemed so much better now that he was free to see Yuuri. Spend time with him.

            The whole day. _The whole weekend_!

            His giddy daydream was interrupted by his phone. Checking the screen, he was surprised to see a local number flash up. Frowning, he answered the call.

            “Hello? Yes, this is Victor Nikiforov…oh, excellent! I wasn’t expecting your call for another few days…no, I’ll be there within the hour, I just need to rent a car…ah, thank you, I shall call them as soon as I hang up. Thank you!”

            He grinned widely as he hung up, quickly tapping a new number. As soon as he was done with this call, he planned to text Yuuri and begin their perfect weekend.

            ‘He’s going to just love this surprise!’ he thought giddily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH THEIR FIRST DATE!!!
> 
> Apologies for leaving you hanging...hopefully you'll be here next week to see what our favourite dorks get up to *^_^*
> 
> Leave a comment or a kudos and bring sunshine to my life <3<3<3


	18. May Prove A Beauteous (Blue) Flower When Next We Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri waits for Victor for their first date...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***STAND BY!! MAJOR FLUFF ALERT!!***

            Yuuri stood nervously outside a café in the city centre, hunched over his cardboard cup of takeaway coffee. It wasn’t a particularly cold day, but he was shivering nonetheless.

            His eyes refused to settle on one thing for too long, constantly on alert for a sight of silver as he waited. And waited. And waited. He glanced at his watch; it was almost eleven o’ clock. Victor said he would be here at eleven o’clock. Yuuri felt his stomach squirm as he continued to look for him, a part of him growing impatient for Victor to show up, another part of him terrified that this was _actually happening to him!_

            Victor had sent him a text a little over an hour ago, telling him to meet him at this café. He hadn’t been so sure, given that it was in such a bustling part of Verona – someone might spot them together.

            “Exciting, isn’t it? ;) xxx”

            That message did not help Yuuri’s knotted stomach! He’d crept out of his hotel like a thief in the night, terrified of someone spotting him and asking him where he was going, who he was meeting, what he was going to be up to…

            ‘I’m meeting Victor. I’m spending the day with Victor. _I’m going on a date with Victor!_ ’

            He’d nearly slipped in the shower when he was getting ready as he replayed that thought over and over, barely able to concentrate on anything but the image of Victor’s sparkling blue eyes that refused to leave his head.

            After grabbing a quick shower and attempting to tidy his thick hair (which had decided that, today of all days, it was going to be unruly!), he’d changed into a pair of navy jeans and a thin black long-sleeved t shirt and grabbed his brown jacket before dashing to the café, not wanting to be late. He had never been that fashion-conscious, opting for simple, comfortable clothes rather than stylish, but now that he was waiting for possibly the most photogenic man in the universe, he was starting to wish he had put in more of an effort!

            ‘I’m going to look like a plain loser compared to him!’ he thought sullenly, taking a quick sip of his coffee.

            As he waited, he watched a young couple walk into the café – a teenage boy with auburn hair and a giggling girl with pigtails. He smiled quietly to himself as the couple sat down, holding hands across the table and staring deep into each other’s eyes, like there was no one else in the world but the two of them.

            Suddenly the coffee tasted bitter and he almost choked as a thought made him panic.

            ‘This is a date. My first date with Victor – _my first proper date ever_! Is he going to expect me to act like those two? All…mushy and dewy-eyed? How the hell do you act on a first date?! Do I hold his hand? _Do I kiss him in public? What if someone sees us?! Should I have bought him a gift or something? What the hell do you buy a guy like Victor? And what is he expecting today? Oh my god, what if he wants to-’_

            He sank to the floor, gripping his coffee cup until the cardboard bent in his hands. He put his head between his knees as he gulped down painful mouthfuls of breath, sweat beading on his forehead. His vision began to tunnel and blur and he clamped his eyes shut.

            ‘Calm down!’ he told himself, counting his breaths slowly, each one deeper and steadier than the last. ‘You can’t let Victor see you like this. Everything’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be - ’

            “Oomph!” he was brought out of his thoughts as a heavy blow knocked him from his crouched position onto his back. Something heavy was on his chest, pressing him to the pavement. Yuuri flinched when something hot, wet and rough suddenly ran up his cheek.

            “Eurgh!” he grimaced as the wetness covered his face, streaking his glasses. He reached out, his hands becoming buried in thick, brown fluff. Something cold and hard prodded his cheek and he began to laugh. It had been over a year, but he instantly remembered this action.

            He pushed himself up into a sitting position, struggling with the wriggling, bouncing pile of fluff that continued to paw at his chest and stomach excitedly. Finally able to get a look at his “attacker”, he beamed when he made eye contact with sparkling black eyes, saw a shiny black nose and felt a long pink tongue lick at his hands as he kept the giant dog at arm’s length.

            “Hey there, buddy,” Yuuri laughed, rubbing the dog’s thick fur, much to the animal’s delight. The dog flipped onto its back and Yuuri immediately dug his fingers into the fur, tickling and scratching the soft belly until the dog yapped.

            His heart did a tiny jump when he realised it was a poodle.

            “You look just like my little Vicchan.” He told the poodle, smiling despite the jab of grief – who could possibly stay sad when they were playing with a gorgeous poodle like this? “Only you’re a lot bigger, aren’t you? He was only a miniature, but you…”

            He stilled, something the poodle didn’t seem to like, judging by the impatient whine. He spotted a collar around the dog’s neck – red and white leather with a tiny golden tag dangling from it.

            The golden tag was engraved with the letter ‘M’.

            “It can’t be!” he whispered, staring wide-eyed at the yapping poodle.

            “MAKKACHIN!”

            The poodle scrambled to its feet and flew in the direction of his name, barking joyfully, his long pink tongue lolling as he ran. Yuuri’s wide eyes followed the poodle – Makkachin!! – and watched as he leapt into the open arms of his laughing owner.

            Victor’s laugh was musical as he cuddled his dog, knees almost buckling under the weight of the excitable ball of fluff. He cooed over Makkachin in Russian, rubbing his curly fur. After a few gleeful moments, he looked over at Yuuri with a sweet smile, his cheeks flushed.

            Yuuri reminded himself that his mouth was hanging open as Victor made his way to him. He looked like a model from a magazine – hair falling perfectly over his eye, sunlight bouncing off the silver strands, a snug navy blue-and-white striped t shirt over dark grey chinos, dark grey trainers and a pale blue fleecy jacket, not to mention a smile that could melt any camera lens – and the younger man couldn’t believe that _he was walking over to meet him of all people for a date_!

            Yuuri noticed, with a thumping heart, how different Victor looked in the daylight. Up until now, he had only seen him at night or at the rink. His silver hair seemed to absorb the late morning sunshine rather than reflect it, making it appear softer and sparkling. His blue eyes looked brighter than ever, like someone had gathered waters from the Caribbean Sea just for him to swim in. The blush on his cheeks was the faintest red, making Yuuri ache to reach up and brush his fingertips along the skin to see if it felt warm. Even his smile looked brighter and warmer in the daylight, if that was even possible.

            _This is a dream. It has to be. I’m still in my room – I fell in the shower and hit my head. That’s the only logical explanation to what I’m seeing!_

            Victor held his hand out to Yuuri, helping him back to his feet and out of his flabbergasted thoughts.

            “Sorry about Makkachin,” he chuckled quietly, ruffling the poodle’s head, “I’ve just got him out of quarantine and I told him all about you on the way from the kennels. Seems we had the same idea about how to greet you.” He added with a sly wink, making Yuuri blush awkwardly.

            “ _Victor_!” Yuuri hissed between his teeth, eyes darting in all directions; his paranoia was at a peak and he was sure someone had just stopped to stare at them.

            Victor, on the other hand, looked like he didn’t have a care in the world as he grabbed Yuuri’s hand and began to drag him down the street.

            “What do you say we get out of here?” he called excitedly over his shoulder as he increased his pace from a stroll to a gentle jog, Makkachin yipping at his heels.

            “W-where are we going?” Yuuri asked, picking up his feet until he could jog at Victor’s side rather than be dragged behind him. It felt so surreal; he was in public with Victor, Victor was holding his hand, smiling at him, a breezy laugh spilling from his lips as they ran. Even though he was still panicking about being spotted, that feeling was starting to get quashed by a surge of something else.

            He realised with a jolt that it was happiness. Pure, excitable happiness.

            Victor must have sensed the shift in his mood as his own smile grew into that bright heart shape that Yuuri was starting to realise he didn’t use in front of the press.

            ‘Am…am I the only one who gets to see this smile?’ that thought made Yuuri’s tummy flip.

            Victor led him down the street and around the corner where he’d parked his car. Yuuri gawped at the vehicle – a hot-pink Chevrolet convertible, all sleek lines and shining chrome, with white leather seats – before turned his gaze back to Victor, who was grinning inanely at him.

            “Subtle.” Yuuri muttered with a raised brow.

            Victor laughed. “When have I ever been subtle?” Yuuri laughed as well; he had a point – he had followed Victor’s career for eighteen years and not once had he ever done anything less than over-the-top.

            Makkachin yapped and jumped over the car door and onto the back seat, looking back the two men with a tilted head, as if to say, ‘what are we waiting for?’

            Just as Yuuri began to walk towards the car, he felt Victor give his arm a gentle tug, making him wobble on his feet. He fell next to Victor’s chest and the taller man immediately released his hand to wrap his arms around his waist. Victor smiled adoringly at the stunned expression on Yuuri’s face and pressed his forehead to his.

            “By the way, hi.” He said softly, feeling his heart flutter as Yuuri melted into his arms.

            Yuuri couldn’t help but sigh as Victor smiled down at him. “Hi to you, too.” He whispered, leaning up to peck Victor’s lips, twisting his hands together behind Victor’s back. He felt Victor smile against his mouth for a moment, applying the tiniest amount of pressure to the kiss, just enough to make Yuuri’s skin catch fire.

            Victor pulled away from the kiss first, much to Yuuri’s surprise. “That’s the first time we’ve kissed in daylight.” He said with a coy smile. He ran his hand into Yuuri’s soft hair, suddenly realising how different his boyfriend looked during the day; when they’d first met, the moonlight had brought out the dark shades of Yuuri’s hair, and the fluorescent lights of the rink made it look shiny. But now, the sunlight drew Victor’s eyes to the brown highlights, making the strands appear softer, warmer. Even his skin looked more radiant in the morning sun, like someone had plucked the palest rose just to add it to Yuuri’s cheeks, like the very sun itself shone just to make those lips look even more tempting. He drew Yuuri in for another kiss, revelling in the gentle sigh that fluttered against his lips.

            Yuuri decided that if this was going to be how they would spend the day, it would be the best day of his life. He wrapped his arms around Victor’s waist a little tighter, pressing himself against his boyfriend’s chest. He could feel the heat radiating from Victor and he hoped Victor felt the same warmth coming from him.

            They stood there for a few minutes, exchanging soft kisses and whispered sighs under the warm sun, until an impatient Makkachin yapped from the car, making them both chuckle.

            Victor unwound his arms from Yuuri’s waist and walked over to the passenger door, holding it open for Yuuri with a teasing smile and flourished wave of his hand.

            “Your carriage awaits.” He said with a cheerful lilt. Yuuri practically fell onto the leather seat, his face on fire; it didn’t look like he was going to get used to Victor’s teasing in a hurry. Makkachin leaned over the seat to lick his cheek. Yuuri took that a sign of reassurance from the animal and patted his head in thanks.

            As Victor got into the driver’s side, Yuuri noticed that the car actually only had one long leather seat, rather than two separate ones.

            “How come you picked this car?” he asked with a puzzled frown. It was a nice-looking car, no doubt a classic, but surely there were more modern cars at the rental place to choose from?

            Victor grinned at him wickedly.

            “Because now I can do this.” He whispered as he slid one hand behind Yuuri’s shoulders and the other across his lap to latch onto his hip and pulled him towards him sharply. Yuuri squeaked in surprise as he felt his bum slide across the leather until he was suddenly pressed against Victor. He didn’t get a moment to recover as Victor captured his mouth, pulling him in for a deep quick kiss.

            Yuuri momentarily forgot how to breathe. It was the kind of kiss that made his head spin until he didn’t know where he was. One moment, he felt Victor’s lips crushing his, heat sparking along his skin as he felt fingertips dance along his jaw. A second later he was sat back on his side of the car, flushed and flustered.

            And itching for another kiss, he realised with a more intense blush.

            Victor winked at Yuuri as he turned the key in the ignition, the engine purring into life. He pulled a pair of designer sunglasses out of his jacket pocket.

            ‘He looks like a movie star!’ Yuuri allowed his inner otaku a moment to fawn over the gorgeous man sat next to him as he fumbled with his seat belt.

            Victor peeked over the top of his sunglasses and grinned. “Hold on tight!”

            “What do yo-OOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” Yuuri felt himself being pushed into the leather seat as if he was on a plane, the air rushing out of his lungs as he screamed. Victor cheered and laughed at the top of his voice as he slammed his foot onto the accelerator, the roar of the engine echoing behind them as they raced down the road. Makkachin howled with excitement, but at least the poodle had the good sense to stay lying flat on the floor rather than on the back seat.

            Passers-by stared as the convertible flew through the streets, a pink blur as they headed out of the city. They were driving that fast, all anyone was able to see was what appeared to be a screaming dark-haired boy and a laughing grey-haired man, though no one would ever be able to say for certain who was in the car.

            Locals rolled their eyes and tutted at the scene.

            “Bloody tourists!”

***

            Yurio looked up just as the bright pink car raced past him. He smirked as the scream from the wimpy passenger trailed behind the vehicle like a tail.

            “What a wuss!” he muttered before walking in the opposite direction, instantly forgetting about the car and the two weird guys in it. He adjusted the paper bag in his arm, making sure nothing fell out.

            After he had got back to his hotel with his grandpa, Nikolai had insisted on him getting a shower before they headed out to do some sightseeing. But when Yurio had got out of the bathroom, he had been sound asleep, sprawled on Yurio’s bed.

            Yurio had gently pulled his grandpa’s shoes off (noticing with a slight frown that the soles were worn smooth, the leather fraying a little along the instep) and brought the duvet over him before getting dressed.

            ‘He must have come here straight from the airport,’ the teenager had mused, ‘no wonder he’s shattered.’

            So he had headed out on his own, letting his grandpa sleep off his jetlag. But now he was bored; he avoided the usual tourist spots, wanting to see them with his grandpa, but that meant he didn’t know where he was and, he suddenly realised, getting lost in a new city wasn’t anywhere near as fun on his own as it would have been with someone else.

            Having found a café, he’d popped in to get a coffee and sandwich to go, hoping to find somewhere quiet to eat his lunch without running into any Montague Corp assholes. He kept the hood of his tiger-print jacket up over his head and his sunglasses on, just in case, but it seemed like around every corner there was a crowd of people who recognised him. Mostly teenage girls, who for some reason all wanted to scream in his face.

            “Look! It’s Yurio!” those words started to chase him around Verona as he picked his feet up. At first he tried to make it look like he was taking a brisk stroll, but soon he was fleeing for his life as fans began to pop up out of nowhere, screaming and reaching for him with outstretched fingers.

            He knew he was popular – he’d had enough fan mail since joining Team Capulet to know that he had a strong female fanbase (who all seemed to share his love for all things feline, judging be the amount of cat plush toys he received) – but this was insane! His heart began pounding in his ears, his lungs constricting as he ran flat out, skidding on his heels and running down random streets as more and more girls appeared.

            ‘Where the hell are they all coming from?!’ his mind raced as he ducked down an alley, praying no one had seen him.

            “Where did he go?” he heard one of the groupies pout.

            “He couldn’t have gone far – look, he dropped his bag!”

            Yurio swore under his breath; he hadn’t even realised that he’d dropped that damned bag!

            ‘There goes my lunch.’ He scowled as he sank further against the wall, hoping the shadows hid him.

            “Try checking his Instagram – has he pinged in a new location yet?”

            Yurio made a mental note to turn off the location tracker, if he ever managed to escape this rabble.

            “Hey, have you seen Yurio Plisetsky? He was just here a moment ago!” he heard one of the girls ask someone. He couldn’t see who it was from where he was hiding, but he hoped it wasn’t another crazy fan.

            “Oh. Yeah, I saw him – he went that way.” A soft, deep voice muttered and the screaming flock ran down the street, away from his hiding place. Yurio frowned, tentatively peeking out from the alleyway; why would someone lie about seeing him?

            He hadn’t been expecting to see the Kazakhstani skater, Otabek, standing casually next to the alley, leaning against the wall. Wearing dark green pants and a long-sleeved brown sweater, black trainers and large black headphones hooked over the back of his neck, the olive-skinned man looked like he was heading for a run.

            Otabek nodded curtly at the teenager. “You alright?”

            Yurio huffed, stepping out on to the street. “Why’d you do that?”

            “What?”

            “Lie to my fans.” Yurio huffed again. “Why’d you send them on a wild goose chase?”

            Otabek shrugged. “I figured that, seeing as you were hiding, you didn’t want to be found.”

            Yurio felt heat rise on his cheeks. “I-I wasn’t hiding!”

            The corner of Otabek’s mouth twitched. “Oh. My mistake. Where I come from, when a kid runs down an alley, it usually means they want to get away from someone, but perhaps it means something different in Russia.”

            Yurio’s lips curled back. “Who the fuck are you calling a kid? I beat your ass in the First Heat, Altin!”

            Otabek smirked again – it was really starting to wind Yurio up.

            “You got me there. Guess I better watch what I say around you.”

            “Damn fucking right you do!” Yurio stomped past Otabek, slamming his shoulder into the older man’s arm, glowering at the pavement.

            “Hey, wait a minute!” Yurio paused, turning his head to look back at Otabek. The dark-haired man was still smirking, but there was a twinkle in his dark eyes.

            “What now?” Yurio scowled.

            “If you go that way, you’ll run into your fan club again.” Yurio flinched, instinctively looking around to make sure he wasn’t about to get jumped on again. Otabek stepped forward, his hands in his pockets. “Follow me.”

            “Why the hell would I do that?”

            Otabek sighed. “Man, you really have trust issues, don’t you?”

            “I don’t fucking know you!”

            Otabek’s mouth twitched again, a tiny snigger making his lips vibrate. “Fine,” he held out his hand to the teenager, “hi, I’m Otabek. Good to finally meet you, Yuri Plisetsky.”

            Yurio blinked wide-eyed. “Y-you just called me “Yuri”.”

            Otabek frowned, his hand still held out in front of him. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

            Yurio shuffled his feet. “Well…yeah, but only my grandpa calls me that.”

            “Would you rather I call you “Yurio”?”

            “No!” Yurio said that a bit too quickly and he glanced back down at his pumps again, feeling his cheeks burning. “I mean…it’s cool if you call me “Yuri”, I guess.”

            “Okay then, Yuri.” Otabek said softly. “Look, are you going to shake my hand or not? My arm’s getting tired here.”

            Yurio quickly looked up; sure enough, Otabek was still holding his hand out to him. Slowly, Yurio reached out and grasped the outstretched hand and shook it firmly. Otabek nodded once before releasing Yurio’s hand.

            The two young men stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Yurio wasn’t used to someone helping him out, the feeling unnerved him. Otabek couldn’t read what was going on in the blonde lad’s head, behind that scowl.

            So he simply turned on his heel, heading in the direction that Yurio had run from. Yurio quickly stepped in time with him, walking briskly next to him silently. The pair walked in silence for a while, looking straight ahead, hands in their pockets. To a passer-by, they could have appeared to be two strangers who just happened to be walking in the same direction.

            Every once in a while, Yurio glanced to the side, looking at Otabek. But when Otabek noticed him staring, he’d dart his gaze back to the street, hoping he didn’t look stupid.

            “You hungry?”

            Yurio looked up and was about to say “no”, but his stomach drowned out his voice. Otabek smiled as the teenager blushed, outdone by his own body.

            “I know somewhere that does good pizza, if you want.”

            Yurio scoffed. “Pizza in Italy – how original!”

            “Alright then, smartass – where do you want to go?”

            Yurio stared, stunned. It took him a second to realise that Otabek was actually teasing him and not outright insulting him. He was used to people like Chris calling him names just to get a reaction, but Otabek calling him a “smartass” felt different; it felt relaxed, easy, almost amusing. Yurio wasn’t sure what to make of that.

            He hummed for a minute, thinking. As he did, Otabek said nothing, waiting patiently, trying not to smile; the way Yurio’s nose scrunched up as he thought, anyone would have thought he had asked him a deep, philosophical question, not what he wanted for lunch.

            “It’s too bad there’s nowhere that makes piroshky; grandpa loves piroshky.” Yurio finally said quietly.

            “I found a Russian tea room the other day,” Otabek said matter-of-factly, “I think I saw piroshky on the menu, if you want to check it out. We can always get takeout so you can get some for your grandpa.”

            Yurio’s green eyes grew wide, his mouth hanging open.

            Otabek frowned, his thick brows knitting together. “Why are you looking at me like I’ve just grown a second head?”

            Yurio shook his head, flushing (why was he constantly blushing?!). “Sorry. It’s just…well, I don’t know…”

            Otabek’s lips formed a thin line. “Dude, I’m not asking you out on a date, you know.”

            Yurio balked and stepped back. “I wasn’t fucking thinking that, asshole!”

            “Then what’s the problem? You never got lunch with a friend before?”

            Yurio’s eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What the fuck makes you think we’re friends?”

            Otabek turned to face him fully. “Let’s see: I saved your ass from that gang of banshees, I’m buying you lunch and I don’t think we’re enemies _or_ we’re dating, so that just leaves being friends, right?”

            Yurio felt all the tension in his shoulders dissolve as Otabek counted his list off on his fingers, the feeling being replaced by something alien. He felt…totally relaxed. Completely comfortable. He only felt like this around his grandpa. Celestino and the others were okay to hang out with, he supposed, but they weren’t friends, not really. They were put together for a career, not out of choice.

            But, by the looks of it, Otabek was actually choosing to spend time with him. He’d called him his friend twice in as many minutes, something that no one had ever done before, not even when he was a child.

            Yurio’s lips twisted upwards into a small smile. “Fine. Friends. But you’re paying for the piroshky.”

            Otabek rolled his eyes, but he smiled in return. “I already said I was, idiot.”

            Yurio gave his arm another nudge; this time it wasn’t quite as hard. He then followed Otabek down the street, conversation now starting to flow more naturally between the two of them.

            “Hey, do you think you could teach me how to swear in Kazakh?” Yurio suddenly piped up, green eyes flashing mischievously. “That would really throw that dickhead Chris off!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next week:
> 
> The First Date continues <3<3
> 
> How are you all enjoying the story so far? Am I getting the balance between the action and the emotions right? I love hearing what you all think, so drop me a line. I will always reply <3


	19. Too Fast Is As Bad As Too Slow (Especially When Victor's Driving!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuuri's first date continues....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER**

            They were about twenty miles out of Verona before Victor finally took his foot off the accelerator, the convertible slowing down gently to the legal limit. He grinned with the biggest surge of exhilaration; the sun was beaming down, the wind felt great as it brushed over his cheeks and he was on a date with the most gorgeous man in the world, with his beloved Makkachin too.

            _How did I deserve to get this lucky?_

            “Woo hoo!” Victor cheered as the wind whipped through his hair. “What a rush! That was so much fun, right? Yuuri? Yuu – _gospodi!_ ”

            Victor nearly crashed the car when he glanced over to Yuuri, his heart dropping down into his stomach.

            Yuuri was almost completely curled up on the seat, his arms folded over his stomach and his knees brought up on to the leather as he tried to curl around his seatbelt, his head flopping backwards and forwards as he groaned quietly. His face was ashen, almost green and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

            “Please…stop…stop the car…” Yuuri mewled weakly, screwing his eyes tightly shut as he tried to fight yet another wave of nausea.

            Victor immediately pulled over at the side of the road and scrambled with his seatbelt. He leaned across the seat and placed a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder.

            “What is it? Yuuri, what’s the matter?” Victor’s eyes were wide and his voice was much higher than normal.

            _Oh great. He’s pitying you!_

Yuuri tried to shake his head, but the motion made him want to retch. He quickly covered his mouth and forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply – he was _not_ going to throw up! He wasn’t! He hoped to god he wasn’t.

            “Car…sick…” he managed to mumble those two words from behind his hand before he felt another heave in his stomach. Makkachin leaned over the seat and gave him an affectionate lick on his clammy cheek and he almost smiled. Almost.

            Victor ran a nervous hand through his hair, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. “Oh god, this is all my fault! What can I do? What do you need?”

            Despite struggling to keep his breakfast down, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel something akin to happiness that Victor was fussing over him. He wasn’t happy about the fact that he was clearly making Victor worry, but it did feel oddly nice to have someone like him act like this around him.

            Comforting. That’s what it felt like, he realised with a watery smile.

            “Water?” he meekly requested, daring himself to open his eyes a tiny bit. The sunlight didn’t make him feel any worse – a good sign. He sat back in the seat and drew another deep breath – again, he didn’t feel any worse for the movement. He hoped that this meant that the worst was over.

            Victor jumped out of the car and ran around to the back. He pushed the button to release the boot door and pulled it open, grabbing a water bottle. He then ran to the passenger side and leaned over the door, unscrewing the bottle cap.

            “Here, lyubov moya,” he whispered as he leaned further over the door, holding the bottle to Yuuri’s lips. He slid his other hand to the back of Yuuri’s head, gently keeping him steady as he tipped the bottle forward, “try and drink slowly.”

            Yuuri was about to protest and take the bottle from Victor – he wasn’t an invalid – but something in the way Victor’s eyes were shining in the early afternoon sun, the way his brow was furrowed, the way he was worrying the corner of his lower lip between his teeth made him stop himself. He felt colour rush back to his cheeks as Victor kept the bottle to his mouth, allowing a small amount of cool water past his lips before withdrawing it a little bit.

            And, he thought with another blush, it felt nice to be held like that.

            After a few mouthfuls of water, Yuuri nodded to Victor, indicating that he had had enough. He sat up a little straighter and ran his hands through his hair.

            “Thanks.” He said numbly as Victor gripped the car door, leaning over him.

            “I am so sorry, Yuuri.” Victor apologised profusely, the frown on his brow deepening. “I had no idea you got car sick.”

            “Well, if I had known I was getting into a Formula One racing car, I might have mentioned it.”

            It took Victor a second to realise that Yuuri was making a joke. He stared at him with wide eyes; sure enough, his boyfriend was looking up at him with a shy, lopsided smile. Even Makkachin sensed the humour in his voice and licked his ear and neck, making Yuuri chuckle before turning to ruffle his furry head.

            Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Victor crouched down, leaning his chin on his folded arms across the door.

            “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” he said in a low whisper with a sweet smile. Yuuri blushed again, cursing the fact that he had colour back in his cheeks, as he caught on to the flirtatious lilt in Victor’s voice.

            ‘Two can play at this game.’ He thought with a sudden boldness that he hadn’t felt since the night they met.

            He leaned back and closed his eyes again, a shrewd smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

            “Well…I suppose you could always kiss me better.”

            He heard a startled gasp and fought to keep himself from grinning. He stilled, waiting expectantly.

            “Eurgh!” he spluttered as his cheeks became covered in slobber for the second time that day. “Makkachin, down! Victor, call him off!”

            Yuuri glanced up and frowned, still trying to push an elated Makkachin off of him; Victor wasn’t standing over him anymore. Yuuri sat up, wiping the drool from his glasses.

            Victor was on his knees, bent double and clutching his stomach as he howled with laughter, tears streaming down his face.

            “Victor!” Yuuri huffed as Makkachin jumped over the seat to smother him with more wet kisses, now pinning him to the seat. The sight only made Victor laugh even harder and he collapsed onto his side, his cheeks flushing hotly as he laughed.

            “Oh come on, Victor!” Yuuri called, though now he was trying to stop himself from laughing; he couldn’t help it – Victor’s laugh was contagious. “Give me a hand here!”

            “Al-alright.” Victor finally managed to say, gasping for breath as he stood up. He opened the passenger door and gently tugged at Makkachin’s collar, guiding the poodle out of the car. He leaned against the open door, hooking one ankle in front of the other with his hands on the top of the door, grinning as Yuuri rubbed his face with his sleeve.

            “Thanks for the assistance.” Yuuri said dryly.

            “It’s your own fault,” Victor quipped with a cheeky wink, “you didn’t specify as to which one of us was supposed to kiss you. What’s the matter – didn’t you like Makkachin’s kisses?”

            Makkachin looked up at the mention of his name, his pink tongue lolling happily. Yuuri smiled warmly at the dog before looking up at Victor with a mischievous flash in his eyes.

            “What if I said I did? Would you be jealous?”

            Victor pressed his fingertips to his chest and made a wounded gasp. “Are you saying my dog gives better kisses than me? How will I ever recover from this?”

            Yuuri laughed – the sound musical to Victor’s ears – and he beckoned Victor down to him with a crooked finger and a sly smile. Victor felt his heart jump at the sight; he hadn’t seen Yuuri look this…playful…since that first night.

            He put one hand on the headrest, just behind Yuuri’s head, and the other on the top of the windscreen, smiling hotly as he leaned down, fluttering his eyelids closed and holding his breath.

            What he expected was the soft, warm press of Yuuri’s lips on his. What he got was the cold sensation of water being tipped over his head. He gasped and spluttered, jumping back up, pushing the wet strands of hair out of his face and brushing away the beads of water that clung to his eyelashes. When he got his vision back, he saw Yuuri sitting smugly, the water bottle now empty in his hand.

            “Now we’re both wet, so we’re even.” Yuuri grinned up at him.

            Grinning brightly, Victor pushed the wet strands of his fringe out of his face, sunlight catching the tiny drops to create miniature rainbows against his sapphire eyes. Yuuri stilled in his seat, eyes growing wide at the sight.

            “…so not fair.”

            “Did you say something, Yuuri?” Victor tilted his head to one side with a lopsided smile.

            Yuuri gulped. He hadn’t realised that he’d said that out loud. He looked down at the empty water bottle in his hands, twisting it in his fingers, fighting to keep his cheeks from overheating.

            “Umm…what I meant was…” he sighed and closed his eyes, dreading how Victor would react to what he was about to say, “how is it that, even when you’re soaking wet and spluttering, you’re still the coolest person in the world?”

            Victor blinked widely, a faint blush blooming on his cheeks and his lips forming a surprised ‘o’ shape for a moment before stretching into a soft smile. He touched his forefinger to Yuuri’s chin and gently nudged his beetroot face upwards.

            “If I’m cool, then it’s only because of the company I keep.”

            Yuuri frowned a little. “W-What do you mean?”

            Victor’s smile grew a little more as he rested his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Well, I have the coolest poodle in the world and now I have the coolest boyfriend in the world.”

            “I-I-I’m not cool!” Yuuri stammered with wide eyes.

            “Of course you are!” Victor’s smile cooled as a hard glint flashed in his eyes. “You think I’d fall for just anyone? Yuuri, only someone as beautiful and amazing as you could make me this happy. So if I say you’re cool, then you’re cool, understand?”

            Yuuri couldn’t take his eyes off the flash in those sapphire eyes. It was like a small flame had been ignited in them, drawing him in. No one had ever said anything like that to him before, especially with such sincerity. With a hitched breath, he numbly nodded, which seemed to appease Victor, judging by the way the corners of his mouth softened upwards.

            He leaned his head back onto the seat and felt Victor’s hand move from his shoulder up to his cheek, cupping it gently. Instinctively he leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He could smell the faint scent of soap on Victor’s wrist, just under the smell of fresh cotton from his jacket. The smell made him feel relaxed and he nudged his cheek deeper into Victor’s cupped hand.

            Victor smiled warmly and rubbed the pad of his thumb along Yuuri’s cheekbone, his heart flipping when Yuuri opened his eyes at the touch. He doubted he would ever stop getting a tiny thrill when he saw those gorgeous chocolate eyes focus on him, how they seemed to pull him in until he couldn’t see anything else but the warm shimmer in their centres, how he never wanted to look at anything else. It had barely been a week since they’d met, yet he couldn’t imagine a day without Yuuri, could barely remember his life before that magical first night. It was like his life was in black-and-white until he saw those brown eyes and rosy lips.

            Yuuri tilted his chin in Victor’s direction, his smiling lips parting just a tiny bit. Victor’s eyes darted between those lips and Yuuri’s eyes for a heartbeat. That heartbeat quickened when he saw Yuuri copy his movements, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as his brown eyes roamed Victor’s face, silently asking. Victor answered without words, leaning forward to capture Yuuri’s lips in a soft, gentle kiss. His breath caught in his chest when he felt Yuuri press his lips harder onto his, a tiny gasp passing between them.

            Yuuri reached out a hand, twisting his fingers into the soft damp hair at the back of Victor’s head, pulling the taller man closer to him. Victor made a surprised “hmmph” noise against Yuuri’s lips before melting into the kiss, cupping his face in both hands. Yuuri felt heat rise in his cheeks, down his neck to his stomach as he gave Victor’s lower lip a tentative tug. The empty water bottle slid from his hand to the ground as he reached up to slide his fingers around Victor’s shoulders, gasping as the Russian man moaned quietly into his mouth. Yuuri took the opportunity to slip his tongue past those lips, tasting the sweetness of Victor’s tongue against his.

            Victor shivered and eagerly returned Yuuri’s advances. He loved how perfectly their tongues moved against each other, no fight for dominance or excessive movements; it was slow, tentative, intoxicating. His mind began to swirl until all he could focus on was Yuuri, the taste of his lips and tongue, the occasional scrape of Yuuri’s teeth against his lip that made him almost growl with want, the sound of Yuuri gasping softly, the feel of his fingers in his hair. Nothing else existed or mattered to Victor.

            That is, until he felt a fuzzy head nudge at his hip with an impatient yap. Opening one crystalline eye, still keeping his lips locked on Yuuri’s, he looked down to see Makkachin sat next to him with a cocked head. Yuuri was the first to break the kiss (much to Victor’s dismay) and reached down to pat the poodle’s head.

            “Maybe Makkachin is jealous of your kisses.” He teased with a smirk.

            Victor snorted. “It’s no contest…right?”

            Yuuri shrugged with a cool smile. “Maybe a draw?”

            Victor raised the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically. “You wound me, Yuuri!”

            “That’s twice in one day I’ve wounded you.” Yuuri chuckled. “What can I do to make it right?”

            Victor grinned at the playful tone in Yuuri’s voice. “Kiss me better, of course!”

            “Of course.” Yuuri placed a hand on Victor’s chest, pushing him back onto his heels in a crouching position before resting his hands on Victor’s knees. “Close your eyes.”

            “What? So you can get Makkachin to kiss me for you? I don’t think so, buster!” Victor laughed at the flustered grimace on Yuuri’s face, clearly foiled.

            Yuuri rolled his eyes comically before pecking Victor’s lips sweetly. “You win.” He whispered, Victor feeling his breath tickle his cheek.

            “I win what?” Victor smiled, enjoying the fresh blush on Yuuri’s face.

            “You know what.” Yuuri muttered, embarrassed.

            “Do I?”

            “Fine!” Yuuri huffed, albeit with a shy smile. “You’re the best kisser.”

            Victor flung his arms around Yuuri’s neck and cheered, that gorgeous heart-shaped smile taking over his face. Makkachin, sensing his master’s happiness, leapt up to join in the hug, his puffy tail wagging furiously. Yuuri suddenly found himself being crushed to the leather seat by a giggling Russian and a yapping poodle.

            He’d never felt so happy before.

            Victor finally stood up, gently tugging Makkachin off Yuuri so the Japanese man could stand up and stretch his arms above his head.

            “Are you feeling any better, lyubov moya?” he asked, checking Yuuri’s flushed face for signs of nausea.

            “Much better, thanks.” Yuuri replied, scratching the nape of his neck idly before glancing around them. Victor followed suit, only now noticing where he had stopped the car.

            They were in the middle of a woody country lane, either side of the road lined with trees that were painted red and gold in the afternoon sunshine. Small rays of sunlight peeked between the autumn leaves, giving the lane an ethereal feel. It was like Victor had driven them to a secret part of the world; there was no other car to be seen, the only sounds were the birds and the rustle of dry leaves in the breeze.

            Victor walked back to the boot and opened it again, pulling out a large blue-and-white ice box and a tartan blanket. He blushed when he saw Yuuri stare at the box with a puzzled frown.

            “I was planning on driving to the beach,” he explained, shuffling his feet, “so I packed for that. But maybe we should save your stomach and see what’s around here. I’m sure a picnic is as good in the countryside as it is at the beach.”

            Yuuri gawped at him. “You-you really planned a picnic?”

            “Is that alright?”

            “O-Of course!” Yuuri stammered, panicking at the slump in Victor’s shoulders. “I…I just didn’t expect you to go to so much trouble.”

            Victor looked like Yuuri had just swore at him. “It’s our first date – nothing’s too much trouble for you.”

            Yuuri blushed furiously and nearly swallowed his tongue. Why was he still surprising himself with the fact that this was a date? It was like his brain was still trying to convince him that this wasn’t happening.

            But as Victor tucked the blanket under one arm so he could take Yuuri’s hand in his, the reality finally hit home.

            He was on a date with Victor. He was standing in the sunshine, holding hands with the most beautiful man in the world, who was smiling at him.

            He laced his fingers with Victor’s and moved in closer for a chaste kiss. He was beginning to feel more relaxed; out here, away from Verona and the Grand Prix, he was free to show Victor how he felt. He could hold his hand, kiss him, smile and talk openly with him.

            Judging by the sparkle in Victor’s deep eyes as he brought Yuuri’s hand to his lips, his boyfriend was thinking the same thing.

            “Shall we, lyubov moya?” Victor asked with a tilt of his head, silver hair falling perfectly over one eye. Makkachin skipped between the two of them, clearly excited that they were finally moving away from the car.

            Yuuri beamed, his free hand coaxing the poodle to follow them. “Lead the way, watashi no ai.”

***

            Back in Verona, Yuuko, Minako, Mari and Hiroko were strolling through the bustling streets, arms weighed down with several bags as they chatted and giggled amongst each other.

            “Who knew shopping was so exhausting?” Mari huffed, her arms aching as she struggled to juggle the bag from the shoe boutique and her cigarette lighter. The young tomboy wasn’t used to such an experience as a girly shopping trip, least of all in the culture capital of Europe. But, she admitted to herself, it was rather fun.

            “Well, it is when you insist on buying three pairs of boots!” Minako snorted with a droll roll of her eyes.

            Mari scoffed at the older Japanese woman. “Please! All you bought was lingerie!”

            “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get Italian lingerie back home? Not to mention how expensive, even with the euro being weak?”

            “Why are you even buying so much? It’s not like you have anyone to show it off to…do you?” Mari raised a quizzical brow, her thin lips curling upwards wickedly.

            Minako threw her head back and laughed. “If I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you! I’m not one to kiss and tell!”

            “Oh, you are such a liar!” Yuuko chimed in with a giggle. “You were practically bursting at the seams to tell us about that guy in Helsinki!”

            “That _guy_ was an actual goddamn Rockstar!” Minako exclaimed. “Can you blame me for wanting to shouting it from the rooftops?” she sighed dreamily, a goofy grin blooming on her face. “Damn, I’d forgotten about him. He had a butt you could bounce a coin off!”

            Hiroko shrieked with laughter. “Such language in front of an old lady!”

            Mari gave her mother an affectionate, one-armed hug. “You’re not old, _Mīra._ ” She crooned in that sing-song voice that she knew her mother loved so much. It had got her out of trouble many a time as she grew up, but now she liked how it made the corners of her brown eyes wrinkle.

            Hiroko returned her daughter’s hug, her chubby cheeks dusted with pink. “You’re very sweet, dearest. But,” she added with a heavy sigh, “you’re right; I’m exhausted! What I wouldn’t give for a decent cup of tea right now.”

            Yuuko glanced around the street. They had passed several bistros and high-end restaurants, the kind that have silverware and snooty waitresses, but she had yet to see anywhere that resembled a café. Somewhere that sold tea, possibly cake or sandwiches.

            As they turned the corner, they came across a small shop that seemed to fit the bill. Small, circular tables covered in clean white linen filled the interior and just outside of the enormous window. Yuuko could just about make out a counter at the back of the room, several cakes of all shapes, sizes and flavours displayed in an almost sinfully-tempting fashion from under the glass panel.

            Suddenly, Mari screamed, her bags dropping to the floor as her hands flew to her face.

            “What is it? What’s wrong?” Minako asked, startled by the sudden (and almost never-ending) shrieking next to her ear.

            Mari pointed wildly at the café window, her arm trembling as she continued to scream, her eyes alight with utter excitement. The other three women shared a bemused glance before turning to the window, peering inside, hoping that whoever they were staring at was not going to think they were being rude.

            “Yurio’s enjoying the company of another human!” Mari shrieked, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet as she continued to gesture at the window.

            “No way!” Minako gasped, covering her eyes with cupped hands to get a better look. “That little punk won’t even eat his lunch with us, who on earth would he - _Nante kotoda!”_

Yuuko pushed next to her, staring into the café. “What? Who is it?”

            “It’s Otabek Altin!”

            “The Independent skater? No way!”

            Sure enough, sitting in the middle of the café, two half-eaten plates of a pastry and glasses of soda between them, was Yurio and Otabek. Yurio was gesturing wildly as he talked, Otabek was sitting back in his seat, arms folded loosely across his chest with a tiny smile as he listened to Yurio’s story. The young Russian’s cheeks were dusted pink, almost like he was…

            “Is he…blushing?!” Minako almost choked on the words.

            “Maybe he’s been laughing.” Hiroko said with a sage smile. “It does seem like they’re having a good time, doesn’t it? That’s nice.”

            “You don’t get it, mum!” Mari’s head snapped between her mother and the scene before her, almost like she couldn’t decide who to look at. “Yurio doesn’t act like this! It’s…it’s…”

            “Different.” Yuuko suggested.

            “Weird.” Minako added.

            “You want to know what’s fucking weird?” a cold voice made them all jump as Yurio suddenly emerged at the door of what they all suddenly realised was a Russian Tea Room. “You lot gawping through the window like I’m a fucking animal in a zoo!”

            He stood at the doorway, his green eyes dark with agitation, his lips curled back in a snarl, baring his gritted teeth. Hiroko took a step back; she never liked it when the teenager acted like this. Yurio was not a quiet child, like Yuuri had been.

            Otabek stepped out of the Tea Room, a hint of a frown on his brow. “Is everything alright, Yuri?”

            Minako almost choked again. “H-He called you “Yuri”!”

            Yurio snarled at her. “So fucking what? That’s my fucking name, isn’t it?”

            “Well…yeah. But I thought only your grandpa called you “Yuri”.”

            The mention of his grandpa made the teenager blink owlishly and curse out loud. “Der’mo! Grandpa! I was supposed to get him his lunch! He’ll be wondering where I am!”

            Otabek was holding a paper bag loosely in one hand next to his hip. Yurio whipped around and snatched the bag from his hand, making the Kazakhstani flinch.

            “This is all your fucking fault!” Yurio snapped at the stunned young man. “You distracted me!”

            “I’m sorry!” Otabek protested, eyes wide in shock. “I didn’t notice the time. I thought - ”

            “Yeah, well you fucking thought wrong!” Yurio growled, stomping away. “Stay the fuck away from me, asshole! And that goes for you too, hags!” he added over his shoulder as he quickened his pace until he was running back into the direction of his hotel, leaving the four women and Otabek staring after him.

            Yuuko patted Otabek’s arm, startling him. “Don’t worry about him,” she said sweetly, nudging her chin in the direction Yurio had fled, “he’s all bark and no bite. I’m sure he’ll want to hang out once he’s calmed down.”

            Otabek’s eyes grew wide for a second and the Japanese women could have sworn they saw the faintest hint of a blush paint his cheeks. “No big deal.” He shrugged, pushing his hands into his pockets. “We just ran into each other, that’s all.”

            Minako crossed her arms and smirked. “It looked like more than that from where we were standing.” She teased, her smile growing crooked as this time the young man definitely blushed.

            “He dropped his grandpa’s lunch when he was being chased by his fans!” Otabek stammered, suddenly feeling trapped by four sets of eyes. “I was just helping him out!”

            Hiroko stepped closer to the young man with a gentle smile that reminded Otabek of his favourite aunt back home. The way her cheeks seemed to get rounder as her lips curled, her eyes glinting with warmth as she reached into her handbag. He raised a curious brow when she pulled out a notepad and pen from the faux red leather bag.

            She scribbled something on a page and handed it to Otabek. He glanced down and his brow only shot further upwards when he read a line of numbers. When he looked back at the woman, her smile grew bigger.

            “That’s his phone number.” She explained simply with a tip of her head.

            “Mum!” Mari exclaimed. “What are you doing with Yurio’s phone number?”

            “How did you memorise it?” Yuuko gasped with wide eyes.

            “How did you even get his number?” Minako looked like the older woman had just pulled a rabbit out of her purse.

            “Why are you giving me this?” Otabek asked, holding the piece of paper delicately, like it would burst into flames if he held it too tightly.

            Hiroko chuckled and waved her hands dismissively, shushing them all. “I may be a lot older than the rest of you, but don’t think I’m without my wiles,” she said with a teasing lilt, “besides, I think it’s nice for the lad to have a friend. Isn’t that what you all said about my Yuuri and that lovely Phichit boy?”

            Minako, Yuuko and Mari shared a look; she did have a point.

            Hiroko turned her large eyes back to Otabek. “I’m sure if you give him a call, he’ll answer. He’s a good boy, really. Just a little rough around the edges.”

            Otabek chuckled, despite himself. “I doubt he’ll pick up to an unknown number.”

            Hiroko waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, it won’t be an unknown number by tonight.” She held out the notepad and pen to the young man with a shrewd smile.

            Otabek blinked widely at the small woman before numbly taking the pad and quickly scribbling his phone number on the page. Before any of the others could get a glimpse, Hiroko put the pad safely back in her bag and nodded her thanks to Otabek.

            “Thank you, sweetie,” Otabek blushed at the term of endearment (this woman really did remind him of his aunt!) “I’ll be sure to give this to Yurio. Would you like to join us for a cup of tea?”

            Otabek awkwardly cleared his throat. “Umm, thank you, but I should probably get back to my hotel. It was nice meeting you all.”

            Minako, Mari and Yuuko gawped as Otabek walked away briskly, pulling his headphones over his head. They turned their head slowly, almost slack jawed, towards Hiroko, who was gazing wistfully after the young man.

            “He seemed nice.” She said matter-of-factly.

            “Mum, what are you playing at?” Mari asked with a frown. “Kids these days don’t pass each other phone numbers on pieces of paper.”

            “She’s right, Hiroko.” Minako said as they finally made their way into the Tea Room, the drama finally subsiding. “They can probably find each other on Facebook or Twitter.”

            “True,” Hiroko shrugged, “but don’t you think there’s something so much sweeter about doing things the old-fashioned way every once in a while?”

            Yuuko laughed with a fond shake of her head. “Anyone would think you’re trying to set them up!”

            Hiroko didn’t answer. She watched Otabek disappear around the corner, a small smile on her face before following the other women into the Tea Room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a sucker for slow build romance, so I'm stretching their first date out to one more chapter ^_^
> 
> **IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT**
> 
> Due to RL commitments, I am unfortunately forced to take a short break from posting :(
> 
> I hate leaving this on a bit of a cliffhanger, but it's unavoidable. I hope you all understand and will be patient with me.
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **Thursday 29th November**.
> 
> ((I know that's Yuuri's birthday! This is a pure, happy coincidence :D))
> 
> I hope to see you all then. I'm still available for a chat, so feel free to leave a comment - I've met some amazing people in the comment threads and I look forward to that continuing <3<3<3


	20. Love Goes Toward Love As Skaters To The Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor's first date continues....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY 26TH BIRTHDAY YUURI!!

_Sigh._

            Victor decided that this was the best day of his life. No gold medal, no championship title, not even the day he first picked up Makkachin from the pound, came close to today.

            He was lying on his stomach, feet kicking lazily in the air, his chin propped up in his palms, with probably the most ridiculously goofy grin on his face as he gazed at Yuuri. Yuuri wasn’t even looking at him, for a change; he was staring off into the distance, quietly chewing on a sandwich, his free hand curled in Makkachin’s fur, scratching the spot behind the poodle’s ear that made his tail swish.

            They had set up their blanket and picnic under the shade of an enormous tree at the top of a hill. In the afternoon sunshine, the view was breath-taking, with rolling hills reaching far into the distance, varying shades of green, gold and red painting the vista in seasonal colours. Several vineyards, neat rows of bushes and reaching vines, were spread across the valley, perfect lines and squares marking the individual spaces. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, a chill hung in the breeze.

            It was perfect. But not as perfect as Yuuri.   

            _‘How on earth did God manage to create someone so beautiful, just for me?’_

The afternoon drifted by in a blissful blur. Between sipping on bottled water or juice and nibbling on sandwiches (it was such a refreshing change for Victor to go on a date with someone who actually understood his need to stick to his diet during the GPS and not try to sway him with sweets) the conversation flowed naturally between them, until it was like they had known each other their whole lives. They tapped through thousands of photos on their phones, regaling each other with the stories that went with them (though Yuuri never did pluck up the courage to tell Victor that he’d already seen his official photographs, thousand of times before, on his secret memory card).

            “Aw, who’s this little guy?” Victor asked as Yuuri tried to quickly skip past a photograph. He smiled sadly, the pad of his thumb brushing over the image of soft, brown fur.

            “That…that’s Vicchan.” Yuuri’s voice came out thicker than he’d intended, a lump sticking in his throat. Victor caught the tone and scooted over to sit a little closer, wrapping one arm around the smaller man. His eyes drifted to Makkachin, who was sprawled in the grassy verge of the hill, and felt a lump rise in his own throat.

            “How long?” Victor asked timidly, unsure if he should ask.

            “Just over a year ago. I was away competing so I didn’t - ” Yuuri choked on a sob and shoved his phone roughly back into his pocket, quickly reaching for his bottle of juice.

            _‘I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.’_

            Makkachin must have sensed the sombre mood and flipped onto his back with a quiet yap, black beady eyes shining brightly. Yuuri laughed, a wet, forced sound that lodged in his throat as he scratched the poodle’s tummy.

            “Makkachin always knows the right thing to say.” Victor smiled, taking his turn to tickle his puppy’s tummy. Makkachin barked excitedly, clearly loving all the attention.

            “Maybe he should be a therapist.” Yuuri said light-heartedly.

            Victor chuckled. “That might not be a bad idea. He’d only need to be paid in belly scratches and biscuits. A lot cheaper than my last therapist.”

            “You’ve seen a therapist?” Yuuri gawped a little; it was hard to imagine the super-confident, charismatic Victor Nikiforov ever needing to see one.

            Victor hummed thoughtfully. “When I was younger.”

            Yuuri didn’t push the subject. He was hardly one to judge, after all; he had seen several doctors, therapists and so-called specialists over the years for his anxiety. No one had ever really come close to helping him, except maybe Yuuko and Takeshi, simply by being there to listen. And his parents. But no one really understood him, and it got lonely after a while. So to hear that Victor went through something similar made him feel less awkward.

            So he quickly changed the subject, knowing from his own experience that dwelling on something like this didn’t help matters. In no time at all, the pair were smiling again as Yuuri told Victor about his family’s onsen back in Japan – which Victor thought sounded like heaven after a day’s hard practice – and how he started skating with Yuuko when he was five years old (Victor fought to hold in a squeal at the adorable image in his head of a cherub-like Yuuri wobbling on his first skates). Victor told Yuuri about how his grandfather gave him his first pair of skates. He made the Japanese man laugh with the story of when Makkachin had tried to skate with him the first time he took him to a rink. When Yuuri told Victor about how Celestino had scouted him while he was studying Literature at Detroit University, the Russian almost swooned.

            _‘Handsome, athletic and now intellectual. What did I do to deserve this man?!’_

As the afternoon wore on, Victor watched with a soft smile as Yuuri began to really relax. He leaned back on his hands, stretching his legs out in front of him with his head tilted upwards, eyes closed against the glare of the sun. Victor took the opportunity to study his features; how his eyelashes brushed against the inside of his glasses, how his hair, no matter how many times Yuuri tried to scrape it to one side, fell in a disorderly fashion over his forehead, how his lips naturally curved upwards in the corners, a permanent semi-smile that no doubt came from years of painting it on. Victor felt himself hoping that he could be the one to change that.

            “You’re staring.” Yuuri smirked without opening his eyes.

            “Merely enjoying the view.” Victor quipped back, making his boyfriend snort derisively. When Yuuri opened his eyes, Victor felt his heart flip at the mirth that sparkled in the chocolate irises.

            Yuuri pointed outwards. “The view is that way.”

            Victor reached forward, gently catching Yuuri’s chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Hmm, I think I like this view better.”

            Makkachin appeared to agree with his master as he bounded onto Yuuri’s legs, unintentionally ruining Victor’s opportunity to kiss his boyfriend and pawing at his new playmate until he laughed, the sound musical and lilting to Victor’s ears. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a matted tennis ball. With a sharp whistle, he caught the poodle’s attention, waving the ball in front of his shiny eyes.

            “What’s this, boy? What’s this? Do you want it? Do you want the ball?”

            Makkachin scrambled off Yuuri’s legs, tongue lolling out of his mouth, tail swishing like crazy. He dropped low on his front paws, his hind legs high in the air, ready to pounce.

            “Go get it, boy!” Victor cheered after Makkachin as he flung the ball, his heart warming as the poodle gave chase. Yuuri shifted onto his knees, clapping his hands onto his thighs as he called Makkachin to him. He wrestled the ball from the dog’s slobbering jaws and threw it again. This repeated several times, Victor seemingly forgotten about as Makkachin raced to Yuuri, joyfully yapping and licking Yuuri’s beaming face before he threw his ball.

            Victor leaned against the tree, watching. It filled his heart with joy to see Makkachin bounding around with all the energy of a puppy again. When he had picked him up from quarantine, the poor darling had been miserable as sin, his floppy ears pinned to the sides of his head, a low whine vibrating through his fluffy chest. Now, seeing him play so happily with Yuuri, watching his boyfriend scratch his beloved pet behind the ears, coo over him in chirpy Japanese, made Victor happier than he had thought possible. As far as he was concerned, the only corner of the world that existed was this hill; just him, Yuuri and Makkachin. A perfect little family.

            That thought made Victor start, a tiny flutter in his stomach. This was their first date. Could he already imagine being with Yuuri in five, ten, even thirty years’ time? A house with a garden for Makkachin (and perhaps a few others) to play in? Walls adorned with their medals and photographs from tournaments, special occasions, holidays…a wedding?

            Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes!

            “Victor?” Yuuri’s puzzled tone snapped Victor out of his daydream. He looked over at the Japanese man, who was wearing a blushing, confused look on his delicate features. “What were you thinking about?”

            Victor felt heat bloom on his cheeks. There was no way he could tell Yuuri what he was really thinking about! It was only their first date; he’d surely scare him away.

            “Umm…I was just wondering if there was a way to make time freeze, so that we could stay here forever.”

            He grimaced; that sounded so cheesy, even for him! Thankfully, Yuuri seemed to see the funny side of it, judging by the belly laugh that made his large eyes scrunch up behind his glasses.

            “You should write inserts for greetings cards!” the younger man teased, giggling at the rosy tint that spread across Victor’s face.

            Victor huffed, feigning offense. “I was making a genuine request, Yuuri! But if you don’t want to stay here forever - ”

            “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

            Victor froze, stunned by the bright brilliance of Yuuri’s eyes as he smiled at him. Yuuri felt electricity hum through his body. He meant it. There was nowhere else in the entire world that he wanted to be. He wanted to stay in this spot, this moment, forever.

            But it seemed that time had other plans. Yuuri noticed, with a slump of his shoulders, that the sun had already begun its descent, the late afternoon bleeding into early evening.

            A part of him cursed that they hadn’t met in the summer. This spot would have been perfect for a lazy, long summer’s day. Yuuri felt cheated, like the seasons were somehow taunting him for finding Victor when he did; too late for long days in the sun, too early for long nights by a fire. He hugged Makkachin a little tighter, the physical contact reminding him that he was here. Victor was here with him. Now. He had to cherish the here and now. Something he had never really been able to do.

            Victor saw the light dim a little in Yuuri’s eyes and moved to sit next to him, gently shooing Makkachin out from the younger man’s arms. Placing a hand on Yuuri’s forearm and the other under his chin, he coaxed Yuuri to look up at him. The setting sun flashed on his glasses for a second, the light making his eyes look even brighter. Victor felt his breath stop as he sank into those chocolate pools, his hand sliding to brush through Yuuri’s hair.

            Yuuri leaned into Victor’s touch, his skin already memorising how to move into the warm circle of his arms, his head already tilting to one side to welcome his lips on his, his eyelids already fluttering closed, the last thing he could see was Victor’s silver lashes mirroring his actions.

            With a shared breath, their lips connected, slotting together so perfectly it was like they were made that way, an opposing piece of puzzle that only now could come together. Victor slowly slid his hand further into Yuuri’s hair, cradling his head at the right angle so as not to put strain on his neck. His other hand brushed up Yuuri’s arm, over his shoulder to the centre of his back. He dared to add the tiniest amount of pressure, pushing Yuuri just that little bit closer to his chest. His heart skipped when he felt Yuuri melt into his touch, hands starting on his chest only to slide upwards and circle around his neck.

            “Yuuri…” he gasped softly against his boyfriend’s lips as his fingertips danced over the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck.

            “Victor…” Yuuri replied, his voice cracked and breathy.

            Neither was sure who moved first. Maybe it was both of them at the same time. One moment they sitting on the blanket, tentatively kissing. The next, they were lying down, side by side, legs hooked together, chests perfectly aligned, fingers clutching eagerly at fabric or hair, tongues dancing in sync with each other. Yuuri swiped his tongue over Victor’s lower lip and shivered at the illicit moan it drew from the Russian, the vibration against his mouth running down his spine. Victor pushed Yuuri onto his back, moving to lie on top of him as the kiss grew deeper, more urgent.

            Yuuri’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest as Victor moved. He gripped the back of his jacket, bunching the fleecy fabric in his fists, and hooked an ankle over Victor’s heel. It felt like instinct, like it was the most natural thing in the world, to have Victor pressed against him like that. To have Victor’s hair tickle his cheek as his tongue explored his mouth, drawing tiny noises out of him that even he’d never heard before. To have Victor’s warm fingertips brush under the front of his t shirt, over his stomach –

            “Wait!”

            Even Yuuri was taken aback at how high his voice was. Victor immediately withdrew his hand and knelt up, his hands on either side of Yuuri’s head. Yuuri curled his hands over his stomach, heat spreading down his face and neck as he blinked widely up at Victor.

            “S-sorry.” He mumbled, his hands still clasped protectively over his stomach. He hoped that Victor hadn’t felt the tiny scars on his skin. He was almost sure he hadn’t; his hand had barely touched him. But the thought of Victor touching, _seeing,_ the silvery marks made him want to hide.

            _Victor won’t want me if he sees them._

Sapphire eyes burned down on him, perfect brows burrowed with concern. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry, Yuuri.” Victor’s voice was hushed, like if he spoke too loud it would make Yuuri shatter underneath him. “I went too far. I’m sorry.”

            He leaned back onto his heels before moving to sit next to Yuuri, who was staring at him like he had just spoken in Russian the entire time.

            “You-you didn’t…I mean, we weren’t-umm, it-it’s just, well-”

            _Stop talking. Just stop talking right now!_

Victor tilted his head to one side, his fringe flowing in the evening breeze, his lips pursed as Yuuri babbled. He lay his hands loose in his lap, palms down, trying to appear calm despite the wild thumping in his chest. That kiss had been the most passionate they’d ever had and he had been so sure that Yuuri had wanted him to go further. He knew _he_ wanted to. But when Yuuri had told him to wait, when he flinched away from his touch, he knew he had crossed a line. And he was worried that he had gone too far, that Yuuri now thought he was some kind of pervert, only after one thing. He had worried about it that first night outside the club; he knew he had somehow picked up this public image of being some kind of Casanova (he suspected his friendship with Chris might have had something to do with) but that wasn’t him at all. And he certainly didn’t want Yuuri to think that of him!

            “Yuuri, it’s my fault. I went too far. I won’t do that again.” Perhaps reiterating it would help.

            “What? But I want you to do it!” Yuuri sat up like a shot. “I mean, I wanted you to…that is, I thought I did. It…it’s just that…” he groaned, pushing his glasses up to his forehead to rub his eyes. Why couldn’t he get his words right?

            Victor’s lips formed a tiny ‘o’ shape, a gasp escaping the shape. He leaned forward onto his right hand, still keeping a safe space between the two of them so as not to intimidate the Japanese man, but moving close enough to hopefully appear approachable.

            “Yuuri…are you a virgin?”

            The way Yuuri drew his knees up to his chin and buried his blushing face behind them gave Victor his answer. He moved closer, kneeling next to him, and rested his hand gently on Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri peeked out from behind his knees, a single chocolate eye behind thick, black lashes and shiny glass. Victor felt his stomach churn at how much shame he saw there.

            “Yuuri, it’s alright.” He kept his voice soft, his smile softer still. “Really, it is. It doesn’t matter to me. I won’t do anything that you don’t want me to. I’m not like that. I’m not that kind of guy.” He reached for one of Yuuri’s hands, wrapping his long fingers around it to bring it to his lips. He heard Yuuri suck in a sharp breath as he kissed the spot between his knuckles and looked up, worried that he might have overstepped the mark again. However he felt relieved when he saw that Yuuri had now lifted his head up fully to look at him, the furious blush ebbing away to a faint tint on his cheeks.

            Yuuri worried the corner of his lower lip between his teeth, blinking widely as Victor rubbed the pad of his thumb across his knuckles. He wanted to believe him, he truly did. Every beat of his heart told him to trust Victor. But a tiny voice, that wicked voice that always told him he wasn’t good enough, kept whispering in his head.

            _Victor is a man of the world. A living legend. Why would he hang around and wait for you? He’s pitying you again. ‘Poor little virgin Yuuri’._

Yuuri shook his head with a deep frown. The voice was wrong; Victor didn’t pity him. He loved him. He knew that! And he loved Victor. He was tired of that voice bringing him down, holding him back.

            He looked back up at Victor. Deep, shimmering blue eyes watched him from under his silver fringe, worry pinching his brows together. He turned his hand over in Victor’s, bringing their palms together. As he felt his skin kiss Victor’s, Yuuri felt like he could keep that voice at bay. At least, he could try.

            “But…you do want to – I mean, you know…m-m-make love to me. Right?”

            Victor’s eyes grew wide at Yuuri’s stammer. With his blushing cheeks, his eyes avoiding his gaze, the nervous twitch of his lower lip, Yuuri looked absolutely adorable. So much so, Victor fought the urge to wrap his arms around him and cuddle him to death! Instead, he reached for Yuuri’s other hand and brought both of them towards him. Kneeling, he held their hands together, his hands cupping Yuuri’s bunched fists in a gentle clasp.

            “Yes, Yuuri.” He said softly, as if any louder might frighten the anxious man in front of him. “I would very much like to make love _with_ you, but only when you want me to. I would never dream of doing anything before you were ready. I’ll wait until we’re married if you want me to!”

            Yuuri choked. “M-married?!”

            Victor gulped audibly, his heart stopping. He dropped Yuuri’s hands like he’d received an electric shock and thought desperately how he could possibly backtrack from that ridiculous declaration.

            “Der’mo!” he cursed, running a hand through his long fringe. “I-I didn’t mean it! I mean, I did, but not right away – I mean, years from now. And I’m not just saying that to sound cheesy, I just-umm…I don’t want you t-to think that I’m only saying something like that to get my leg over, because I’m not like that! I-I-I really would wait - ”

            _Stop talking. Just stop talking right now!_

Thankfully, Yuuri shut him up with a quick, sweet kiss to his lips. Victor instantly stopped talking, his eyes staring unblinking and grown to the size of saucers, his hands frozen mid-motion from his flapping. Yuuri’s smile made the corners of his eyes wrinkle, the golden flecks in his irises sparkling in the evening light.

            “I like the sound of that.”

            Victor was sure his heart had stopped. Yuuri was still sat next to him, even after his stupid mouth had run away with him. He hadn’t run away. He hadn’t scared him away! He breathed a huge sigh of relief, a shaky smile forming on his lips.

            Yuuri willed his heart to stop skipping. Victor had just said he’d wait until they were married before they slept together. Victor Nikiforov – talking about marriage! Either the universe was playing a cruel trick on him or was giving him the best gift ever. For a few minutes, they sat in silence, gazing out over the landscape, watching as the golden beams of the setting sun illuminated the vista, the autumn colours suddenly seeming richer, bolder under the dimming light. Victor noticed that Yuuri didn’t withdraw his hand from his. Yuuri liked how Victor’s thumb was drawing idle circles over his knuckles.

            “Victor?”

            “Hmm?” the Russian turned his head to the younger man, a flash of silver in the light as his hair caught the breeze.

            Yuuri worried the corner of his lip again, the skin feeling puckered and red under his teeth. “Can…can I ask you about your magic number?”

            It took Victor a few seconds to realise what Yuuri was actually asking. He smiled at the cute way he asked; the way he drew Makkachin to his chest, burying his cheek in the brown fuzz, the way he tried to hide his blushes in the poodle’s fur, only for it to be even more obvious, the way he curled in on himself, hitching his knees under his chin again.

            Victor leaned back onto his hands and stretched his legs out straight in front of him. He didn’t take his eyes off Yuuri; this clearly meant a lot to him and he wanted him to feel like he could trust him.

            “When I was sixteen, I slept with a girl. I think her name was Shannon…Sharon? No, Shannon! It was a one night thing, I can barely remember what she looked like. To be honest, I didn’t enjoy it – it was awkward, uncomfortable and…well, it wasn’t good for either of us. We were drunk on cheap vodka, she had just broke up with her boyfriend and I was trying to convince everyone – including myself – that I liked girls. It certainly stopped the rumour mill for a short while!” he added with a short laugh. He remembered the gossip magazines hounding him not long after he joined Montague Corp, all wanting to know one thing: his sexuality. A stupid thing to ask a hormonal teenager!

            “I didn’t stay in touch with her; I think we were both embarrassed that it had happened. I’ve kissed a few guys on nights out with Chris, but I’ve never gone any further. Chris has… _propositioned_ me, shall we say? Only when he’s been drinking and I’ve always turned him down. The last thing I want to do is ruin our friendship over a ten-minute fumble.”

            Yuuri sat gawping. Victor had only slept with one person?! His inner fanboy was cursing all those fan sites and magazines that had pegged him as some kind of lothario, leaving broken hearts after every competition. It was slanderous!

            Then a thought dawned on him as he watched Victor’s face smooth out as he spoke, like he was relieving some hidden pressure from behind his eyes. One that made him want to sing and throw up at the same time:

            _Victor has never been with another man._

He twisted his fingers together, an anxious knot forming in his stomach.

            “Umm…c-can I ask you something?” he waited for a second, until he saw Victor smile warmly at him. “If…if you’ve never been with a g-guy before, how are you going to know if it’s not going to be like it w-was with the g-girl?”

            Victor’s head tipped to one side and his mouth pursed, mulling over his question. He reached out his hand and waited for Yuuri to take it. He gave it a gentle squeeze and smiled at how Yuuri squeezed his hand at the same time.

            “After what happened with that girl, I promised myself that the next person I slept with would be someone I was in love with.”

            Yuuri swallowed thickly at the way Victor stared intensely at him, his smile making his eyes sparkle in the evening glow. He dared himself to think that, perhaps, Victor was giving him a hint. Maybe? Hopefully? Every beat of his heart begged him to be that person. Every breath that hitched in his chest panicked that he just might be!

            “But…” Yuuri licked his lips, suddenly feeling like they were dry and cracked, “wouldn’t you rather that be someone who knows what he’s doing, rather than some…useless virgin?”

            Victor blinked several times before frowning at him, like he just swore at him. Leaning forward, he caught Yuuri’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing his eyes to his level. Yuuri almost flinched at the steely flash in those sapphire eyes.

            “I hope you’re not calling yourself useless, Yuuri. How could you possibly be useless if I’ve already decided to trust you with my heart? Don’t you know that sex is better when two hearts connect first?”

            Yuuri’s jaw dropped a little bit. The sky was turning a pale lilac shade, the breeze began to pick up. The deep blue of Victor’s eyes seemed even deeper in the fading light, like two blots of ink on a sheet of paper, his fringe fluttered like the wing of a tiny bird. His lips were set in a firm line as he stared at him. It was a look that both startled and excited Yuuri, his skin tingling with a chill, save for the spot under his chin where Victor’s finger lay, which seemed to burn softly.

            With a trembling hand, Yuuri took hold of those fingers and pressed them to his own chest. He felt Victor splay his hand over his heart, the quickstep of the beat jumping under his t shirt. The beat quickened to a tango as he felt those long fingers smooth out over the fabric, then to a staccato as Victor looked up into his eyes, having watched Yuuri move his hand with a held breath.

            “My heart…my heart was yours from the second I saw you.”

            Releasing his breath, Victor lunged forward and pressed his lips to Yuuri’s, stealing the gasp from the younger man. The hand on Yuuri’s chest slid up behind his head, burying in the raven locks, whilst the other wrapped around his back. He felt Yuuri mirror his movements and shivered at how gently he ran his fingers through his hair, yet how strong his grip was on the back of his jacket, the two opposing touches making his head swim. He let Yuuri take the lead, allowed him to pull him towards him until he had to twist his neck so he could keep their lips locked together, until he could feel the warmth of his chest against his, a soft contrast to the evening chill.

            A tiny moan escaped Yuuri’s lips as he deepened the kiss, tentatively swiping his tongue over Victor’s lower lip. When he heard Victor reciprocate his sound, he tightened his grip on the back of his jacket. He felt a sudden urge for more; more of the taste of Victor on his tongue, more of the sound of his gasps in his ears, more of the feel of his chest pressed against his. He tipped his head to one side, nestling his nose against Victor’s as their lips continued their assault. He suddenly felt bold and let himself fall slowly down onto the blanket, pulling Victor down with him. The taller man slotted himself over him, one knee between his, just enough space between their bodies to allow him to still breathe, his hands still curled around his back and in his hair. Yuuri felt drunk; Victor was literally dominating every sense and it almost wasn’t enough.

            Victor lapped up every gasp from Yuuri’s mouth like they were water, savoured every brush of his fingertips along his neck like they were the only thing sustaining him, devoured every brush of his tongue against his like it was his last meal. He felt greedy, wanting more of Yuuri’s kisses, Yuuri’s touches, even after telling him he was willing to wait for them. He was still willing, but he didn’t want his boyfriend to suddenly feel pressured.

            He made a conscious effort to keep his hands above Yuuri’s clothes, just to be on the safe side. Yuuri did the same thing, he noticed with a soft smile. He eased into their kisses, knowing Yuuri felt comfortable with him like this, and wished that they could stay like this forever.

            Makkachin, it seemed, had other ideas. Either he was bored with the sudden lack of attention from the two men, or he misread their rolling around as a kind of game, but the poodle leapt onto Victor’s back, the sudden fluffy weight making Victor’s arms buckle. Both man and dog collapsed on top of Yuuri with a grunt and a yap. Yuuri felt the air getting crushed from his lungs but he still found himself laughing. It was impossible to keep a straight face; Victor was struggling to reach behind his back to push Makkachin off of him, babbling something in Russian which was most likely along the lines of “get off me!” with an exasperated blush on his cheeks, and Makkachin was refusing to stay still, pawing at almost every inch of his master’s back like he was massaging him, a long pink tongue lolling joyfully at finally being included in the game.

            “Yuuri, I am so sorry!” Victor puffed when he was finally able to get to his knees, having pushed the poodle to the side of him. “He’s normally better behaved than this. Plokhaya sobaka, neposlushnyy mal'chik!” Makkachin lowered his head to the grass with a high-pitched whine at the scolding.

            Yuuri reached for the poodle, ruffling his fur and kissing the top of his head. “Aw, don’t shout at him, Victor! He was only playing, weren’t you boy? Yes you were! Dare ga ī inudesu ka? Anata wa ī inudesu!”

            Victor shook his head fondly and admitted defeat. There was no way he could stay cross at Makkachin, but listening to Yuuri fuss over him in Japanese was just too cute for his heart to handle! So he joined in, cooing over the excitable ball of chocolate fluff until his puffy tail was swishing so fast, it looked like he could take off.

            Glancing up, Yuuri noticed the sky had shifted to an inky-blue, the first stars blinking down. His smile melted away instantly. His jaw set in a hard line as he glared up at the sky and instantly felt stupid for doing it.

            ‘It’s not like this will be the last day we spend together. There’s still tomorrow.’ He chided himself for his pouting, a tiny flip of his stomach making him smile at the thought of the following day. Celestino had given them the whole weekend off. Yuuko was covering for him. He had tomorrow to look forward to with Victor. Still, he hated that their first date was rapidly coming to an end already.

            Victor seemed to be thinking the same thing as he slowly rose to his feet, dusting the grass stains on his chinos and straightening his jacket. He was also looking up at the darkening sky with an expression that was almost like anger.

            “I guess we’d better be heading back.” He said softly, turning to Yuuri with a slight swish of his hair. “Before people start asking questions.”

            Right. Questions. Yuuri could almost hear the harsh tone of Mari’s voice if she caught him sneaking back to the hotel late at night. Or Takeshi’s teasing him for coming back in the dark after leaving straight after practise. Or the countless questions from his parents about his date. The thought made his stomach churn. He just wasn’t ready for all of that, not yet.

            With a solemn nod, he took Victor’s outstretched hand and they made their way back to the car in silence. Even Makkachin padded soundlessly next to them; Yuuri could have sworn that the poodle was just as sad as they were about the day coming to an end.

            Victor kept to the speed limit on the way back to Verona. He was not in a hurry to get back. Every now and then, he glanced over at Yuuri. The wind whipped his black hair from his eyes, his jacket flapped a little bit in the breeze. Yuuri was staring into the middle distance, his eyes glazed over as he sighed deeply, his chin propped up on his hand as he leaned on the door. Victor sighed and turned his attention back to the road, wondering how to cheer Yuuri up. The day had been perfect and he hated the idea of saying goodnight, but he couldn’t let Yuuri go back to his hotel so sad.

            After driving in silence for about ten minutes, he felt Yuuri slide over the bench seat. Looking down, he was met with chocolate eyes and a soft smile as Yuuri lay his head against his shoulder. Victor felt his heart do a triple axel at the beautiful glitter in those eyes and shifted his arm so Yuuri could cuddle into his chest. Wrapping his long arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, he planted a quick kiss to Yuuri’s forehead before turning his eyes back to the road.

            Yuuri wrapped an arm across Victor’s stomach and breathed deeply, the scent of Victor’s aftershave drifting over him as the wind whistled over them. He wanted to close his eyes and just soak in the feeling of Victor’s arm around him, of his heart beating so close to his ear, of his chest rising and falling next to his cheek…

            “Yuuri?” Victor’s luscious whisper almost startled him. “We’re back.”

            Yuuri sat up quickly and groaned. He had fallen asleep! He had fallen asleep, held in Victor’s arm, in the car, like a child after a day out.

            “S-sorry.” He muttered, raking his fingers through his windswept hair.

            Victor smiled, a lopsided tug on the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry about it. Obviously you trust my driving a bit more than you did this morning.”

            Yuuri chuckled. “Yes, when you’re not using the road as a race track!”

            Victor threw his head back with a loud laugh. “I said I was sorry about that! How long are you planning on holding on to that?”

            Yuuri leaned back in the seat with a sly smile. “Depends on how long you’re planning on keeping me around.”

            Victor leaned in, a hand sliding over the back of the seat as he edged towards Yuuri. He felt a spark under his skin at the way Yuuri was smirking at him, his own smile growing crooked. “Hmm. How long do you have, lyubov moya?”

            Yuuri’s stomach began to twist and pitch at the sight of the dark flash in those cerulean eyes. He ran his tongue nervously over his lips, determined to keep up with the older man’s flirting. “A-all night, if you wanted.”

            Victor grinned like a cat with a mouse, looming over Yuuri. “Why, Yuuri,” he purred, breath tickling along Yuuri’s cheeks, “if you keep talking like that, I’ll have to keep you here with me all night.”

            “Promise, promises, Victor.”

            Before Victor could react (though the only reaction he could think of was to pick his jaw up off the floor), Yuuri gripped the front of his jacket and pulled him into a searing kiss. The Russian gasped into the Japanese man’s waiting mouth before wrapping his arms around Yuuri, pulling him across the long leather seat until he was almost in his lap. Yuuri scrambled to move with Victor, his hands fumbling to find purchase on the back of his neck, along the curve of his shoulders, through the silky thread of his hair.

            Victor felt the front of his pants grow tight and shuddered. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to keep going; keep kissing, keep drawing every guttural moan from Yuuri’s lips as their tongues and teeth moved together, keep him right there in his lap where he was grinding his-

            “Y-Yuuri,” he stammered, gently pushing on the smaller man’s chest with a trembling hand, “m-maybe we should stop-”

            But Yuuri clamped his mouth back over Victor’s, the soft, sweet moan of his name making Victor almost surrender to his boyfriend’s advances. He couldn’t deny that he was thoroughly enjoying this side of Yuuri; how he was trying to take control of the kiss, how he seemed to grow more confident with every brush of fingertips over skin and every swipe of a tongue over lips.

            Yuuri shuffled a little more in Victor’s lap and shivered as the older man gave a slight rock of his hips. He felt himself losing himself to something basic and instinctual as he matched the rocking, his hand sliding down Victor’s chest to the cool metal clasp of his belt.

            “Yuuri, no!” Victor grabbed Yuuri’s hand in a tight grip, probably a little tighter than necessary but the jolting motion seemed to snap them both out of the haze. Yuuri blinked owlishly at him, breath huffing past kiss-bruised lips. “I don’t want our first time to be a fumble in the car. Please Yuuri? I meant what I said before, I’m willing to wait.”

            “But - ”

            “I mean it, Yuuri.” Victor said sternly, keeping a firm grip on Yuuri’s hands and pulling them to his lips to brush them along his knuckles. “I promise, when the moment is right, we will make love. But not here, not tonight.”

            Yuuri sat back in the seat and took a deep, cleansing breath. Of course Victor was right. He was embarrassed with himself for almost going too far. For god’s sake, he was twenty-three, not some hormonal teenager! He should have been able to keep control of himself, should have listened the first time Victor said no.

            ‘Oh god!’ he thought with a cold chill down his spine. ‘What if Victor thinks I’m only after sex now?’

            “Umm, right. I-I guess we’d better say goodnight.” And with a swift kiss to Victor’s cheek, Yuuri practically fell out of the car and began the walk to his hotel, only noticing then that Victor had parked on the outskirts of the city.

            _He made sure we weren’t spotted._

The thought made him smile. At least one of them was thinking straight!

            Victor slammed his forehead against the steering wheel and groaned. The tightness in his trousers was still there, an aching reminder that he had come so close to breaking his own promise to the man he loved. Inhaling deeply though his nose, he willed his heart to slow. The image of Yuuri, flustered and fleeing the car, danced behind his eyelids and his heart sank.

            “Nice one, Nikiforov!” he grumbled to himself as he turned the ignition back on, ready to drive to his own hotel. As he glanced over his shoulder to check the road was clear, he spotted Makkachin on the back car seat. The poodle cocked his head to one side and gave a rumbling whine.

            “Don’t you start too!” Victor pouted in response to the poodle’s stare. “I did the right thing…right?”

            Makkachin yawned and flopped his head back onto the seat.

            “You’re such a big help.” Victor drawled sarcastically.

            Just as he was about to reverse out of his parking spot, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He quickly tapped on the message when he saw who it was from.

            “See you in the morning xxx”

            Victor quickly looked up. Yuuri was standing at the top of the road under a streetlight, the pale-orange glow illuminating his sweet smile as he waved in his direction. Victor beamed and waved back frantically before driving away. Yuuri leaned against the lamppost and watched the car disappear down the road and around the corner. He sighed, glad that at least he had made up for his awkward fumbling before Victor had left, and headed for his hotel.

            As he held his hand up to open the main door, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Yuuri grinned and bit down a giggle as he read the message over and over again.

            “The morning isn’t soon enough! See you in dreamland, lyubov moyaヽ(o♡o)/ xxx ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone :D
> 
> Thanks for coming back to read this after my short break. I'm not going to lie, it was touch and go lol.  
> I came down with the worst chest infection this week and I've felt like death warmed up.
> 
> But with a lot of hot chocolate and the amazing support of my beautiful co-conspirator, IncandescentAntelope, I was able to keep to my deadline. Thanks Ia, honey, for being my beta for this chapter and giving me the confidence boost I needed ^_^
> 
> The next chapter will see the story continue with our heroes' SECOND DATE (that's right, the fluff shall continue!)
> 
> Hope to see you all then. Feel free to leave a comment, I will reply to them all xxx


	21. Love from Love, From The Ice with Heavy Looks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of Yuuri and Victor's second date. Yuuri wakes up from a good night's sleep, wondering what the day will bring...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****AUTHOR'S NOTE*****
> 
> This chapter contains scenes of a sexual nature. It contains scenes of masturbation and implied past rape/non-con. 
> 
> Read with care, and I hope you still enjoy the story xxx

            Yuuri woke up the next morning with a drowsy smile on his face. And a dried stain on his pyjama shorts.

            Feeling his cheeks burn, he peeled the shorts off and reached for a packet of handwipes from the bedside table. He had been using the wipes to clean off his makeup from his routines before jumping in the shower.

            ‘Didn’t think I’d be using them for…this.’ He thought with another blush, silently thanking god that he wasn’t sharing a room with anyone this season. He supposed that that was one advantage to having a whole hotel for just one team; there was no lack of accommodation.

            Lying flat on his back, he stared up at the ceiling as he cleaned himself, the cool wet tissue making him gasp a little bit. It wasn’t like this was the first time he had woken up this way; he had had wet dreams as a teenager.

            But last night was the first time that the object of his dream wasn’t a faceless figure. It was Victor. Yuuri felt his eyelids flutter close of their own volition as he wrapped the wet wipe around himself, clenching his fist as his dream began to play out again behind his eyelids.

            _Victor was standing alone on the ice. He was wearing that deep-red sequined shirt and those black leggings from the last stage of the Grand Prix. A spotlight was dancing over the sequins as he pushed off on one foot into a graceful layback spin, long fingers splaying out to the sides._

_Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Yuuri’s eye from where he was sitting in Team Capulet’s box. But no one else was with him; he was alone. They were alone._

_The corner of Victor’s mouth curled upwards as he rolled his hips in time with the silent music, the only sounds Yuuri could hear were the pounding of his heart and the quickening of his breath._

_A slender hand slid up the nape of his neck, carding through his silver hair as he sucked his lower lip between his teeth. His other hand trailed down the plunging neckline, fingertips dancing over the glistening skin of his collarbone, over his sculpted pecs and past his defined abdomen._

_“Yuuri…” his velvety voice called out to him across the ice, his sapphire eyes burning with an intense heat as he glided effortlessly towards him, that hand sliding over the prominent bulge in his tight leggings. “Yuuri…”_

“Victor!” Yuuri was shocked to hear his own voice echo in his empty room, his heart hammering in his ears as he pumped himself through another orgasm, his fist suddenly slick with a thick white substance. It took him a minute to calm down enough to feel embarrassed again, reaching for another wipe to properly clean himself. Or at least, he thought he would feel embarrassed.

            He had just got himself off with the image of his idol, Victor Nikiforov.

            He had just got himself off with the image of his _boyfriend_ , Victor Nikiforov.

            A rumbling chuckle spilled from his lips as he stretched tiredly on the bed, feeling his muscles pop in that delicious way that made him feel like he’d grown a few extra inches. He felt light, like his very bones were made of clouds.

            He still couldn’t believe that he was with Victor. That he didn’t need to feel ashamed or embarrassed about dreaming about him. That he was going to be spending the day with him again. That he’d be able to hold his hand and kiss him again.

            ‘I wonder what noises Victor makes in bed.’ He laughed at his suddenly filthy trail of thought as he jumped into the shower, scrubbing his skin until he felt like he’d shed several layers. As he wiped the mirror with a towel to brush his teeth, he gasped at how bright his face looked. His usual dark circles from sleepless nights were gone, his brown eyes sparkled in the light, his cheeks were flushed with more than standing under a hot shower.

            He ran his fingertips over his cheek, stunned by how…healthy he looked. For the first time in years. Raking his fingers through his wet hair, scraping it away from his face, it almost looked like someone else was looking back at him from the mirror. Someone he had always wanted to be. Happy. Confident. In love.

            ‘If this is what being in love does to you, I should have met Victor years ago!’ he laughed breathlessly as he got dressed. Tossing his stained pyjamas into the laundry hamper, he silently thanked god again for being in a hotel which was exclusively for his team; the maid service meant they’d be cleaned without any awkward questions.

            Opting for a forest-green t shirt over faded denim jeans with charcoal-grey pumps and a thin fleece-lined jacket, he picked up his phone and smiled at the numerous texts that Victor had already sent him that morning, ranging from simple messages like “Dobroye utro!” (to which Yuuri responded to with “Ohayō!”) to random photos of Makkachin lying on Victor’s bed to just lines of heart emojis.

            As he began walking downstairs to the restaurant for breakfast, Victor sent another message, asking about their second date:

            “Do you think your tummy would be up to that drive to the beach today? Xxx”

            Yuuri huffed a laugh as he replied:

            “Depends. Who’s driving – you or Lewis Hamilton? XD”

            The emojis that filled Yuuri’s screen made him laugh out loud as he entered the restaurant.

            Considering there were only twelve people currently occupying the hotel, the large restaurant looked too big, full of empty tables and bar stools, the long buffet tables seemed like a waste of food, the quiet sounds of clinking cups and cutlery echoing around the room. Celestino and Minako were sitting with Mari, Hiroko and Toshiya (Yurio had jokingly called it the “grown-ups table” and the name had stuck.), Yurio and his grandpa were on another table, the teenager typing furiously on his phone whilst scarfing down a piece of buttered toast despite Nikolai grumbling at him to put his phone away and Michele and Sara were at a separate table, actually talking quietly for a change. Michele even looked like he was interested in the photo that Sara was showing him on her phone.

            Yuuri hoped that things were finally calming down between them. He had never argued with Mari as often or as animatedly as the twins and it befuddled him. Maybe it was a twin thing, he mused as he poured himself a cup of coffee, to be so entwined in each other’s lives.

            Grabbing a plate and filling it with croissants and jam, he beamed brightly at Yuuko and Takeshi as he sat at their table.

            “Good morning!” he said almost musically, surprising even himself. He was in way too good of a mood, compared to his usual sullen monosyllabic self, first thing in the morning.

            Takeshi shot a teasing look his way, a thick eyebrow bowing upwards and a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Someone’s chirpy this morning! And you haven’t even touched your coffee yet. I’m guessing you had a good time yesterday.”

            Yuuri squirmed uncomfortably at the wink his friend shot him across the table, his own smile faltering as he quickly gulped at his coffee. “Umm…yeah, I guess I did.”

            Takeshi guffawed. “It’s about time! So come on – tell us all about it!”

            Yuuko rolled her eyes. “Really, Taka! You sound like a teenage girl. You were exactly the same yesterday when I told you about Yurio and Otabek.”

            Yuuri frowned. “What about Yurio and Otabek?”

            “There is no ‘Yurio and Otabek’ and some people need to keep their fucking noses out of my business!” the blonde teenager roared from his table with a dark scowl.

            “Watch your language, Yurochka!” his grandpa didn’t even look up from his newspaper as he scolded him calmly, his gruff voice barely louder than a mutter, yet even Yuuri felt intimidated. Nikolai was clearly not a man to cross. Remembering what Minako and Yuuko had told him about the older man and what he and his grandson had gone through, Yuuri smiled, a small understanding stretch of his mouth.

            ‘It’s pretty easy to see where Yurio gets his stubborn streak from.’

            The huge Japanese man grinned at his wife, ignoring her blatant attempt to change the subject. “You cannot tell me that you’re not even a little bit curious, Yuuko. Yuuri goes out all day by himself, doesn’t answer any calls or messages and then comes back after dark – for a guy who literally ran away from the subject of dating a week ago, his first date should be a cause for celebration.”

            “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” Yuuko quipped pointedly, eyes silently apologising to Yuuri, but her husband ignored her.

            “Come on, tell us all about her! Where did you guys get to yesterday? What did you get up to?” the way he winked at Yuuri made his face burn.

            “Th-there’s nothing to tell!” he squeaked, his heart racing as he tried desperately to think of something, anything, to say. “We…we went for a drive, we had lunch, we talked - ”

            “Until late at night?” Takeshi interrupted with a snort. “Come on Yuuri, it’s us! You don’t need to hold back the details.”

            “So what are your plans for today?” Yuuri spluttered at Yuuko with wide, pleading eyes, trying desperately to change the subject. He noticed his hands were shaking around his cup, his brow felt like it had a sheen of sweat on it.

            “What’s the big deal?” Takeshi chuckled, clearly enjoying his friend’s discomfort. “Buddy, I’m happy for you! You’re finally getting out there and sowing your wild oats - ”

            “Sowing my _what_?!” Yuuri choked on his coffee. Or maybe it was on his own tongue, he couldn’t tell.

            “Takeshi!” Yuuko snapped, frowning indignantly. “Do me a favour and go and get my jacket from our room please. I want to head straight out after breakfast.”

            Takeshi frowned, glancing at the rose-pink cardigan on the back of her chair. “But - ”

            “I’ve changed my mind about the cardigan; the forecast says it’s going to be chilly today. Can you get me my jacket, please? The pale blue one?” she batted her eyelashes for good measure.

            Her husband blushed a little and coughed awkwardly. Yuuko smiled sweetly at him, knowing full well how easily he was swayed by what he called “her womanly wiles”. Takeshi huffed and stood up, his chair squeaking on the marbled floor. “Fine, whatever. Just remember Yuuri – if you can’t be good, be careful!”

            And with a slap to Yuuri’s shoulder, making him spill what was left of his coffee onto the snow-white tablecloth, Takeshi picked up his wife’s cardigan and the room cardkey from the table. As soon as he left the restaurant, Yuuri sagged into his chair, heaving a sigh of relief and wiping his brow with a clammy hand.

            “I’m sorry about him, Yuuri.” Yuuko said softly, shaking her head. “But you know how dense he is – heck, it took him a year to realise I was flirting with him when we were kids!”

            Yuuri smiled weakly at the memory. “Thanks for saving me. Again. I owe you.”

            Yuuko shook her head with a fond smile. “Don’t be silly. That’s what friends are for – we get rid of idiot husbands when they can’t take a hint.”

            Yuuri chuckled and glanced at his watch. He gasped when he saw the time. “I’ve got to run. See you later!”

            “Are you meeting up with him again?”

            “Yes, we’re going…” Yuuri answered before he could stop himself, and then when he realised what Yuuko had said, it was too late. He froze, halfway between standing and sitting, one hand on the back of his chair and the other gripping the edge of the table, staring wide-eyed at Yuuko.

            “You…you said “him”…” he whispered slowly, somehow hoping that he might have misheard her, that nobody else heard her. His eyes darted around the restaurant. Thankfully everyone else was still engrossed in their own private conversations and finishing breakfast.

            “I did.” Yuuko replied, matching her best friend’s tone with a small, knowing smile.

            Yuuri sat back down. It was either sit down voluntarily or let his knees buckle under him. He felt the blood rush from his face and pool in his socks. His mouth opened and shut several times, like a goldfish’s, floundering desperately for something to say again.

            Yuuko reached a hand across the table, patting Yuuri’s gently. “I kind of guessed from the way you were avoiding Taka’s questions that you weren’t with a girl yesterday. Yuuri, you know that I don’t care who you date, as long as you’re happy; man, woman, black, white – good god, they could be a purple, three-headed alien from Planet X! As long as you’re happy and safe, that’s all that matters.”

            Yuuri sat in silence for a moment, digesting what she had just said. “Really? A purple, three-headed alien from Planet X?” he couldn’t stop himself from giggling a tiny bit.

            Yuuko waved her hand flippantly. “Taka was watching some dumb sci-fi movie last night. My point is,” she squeezed his hand, making him look her in the eye, “As long as he makes you happy, that’s all that matters.”

            Yuuri couldn’t stop the smile that suddenly stretched his lips, the image of Victor’s smile filling his head. “He does – even more than skating!”

            Yuuko chuckled at the declaration, and the crimson blush that accompanied when Yuuri realised he had said that out loud. “Wow! He must be good! Well, I’d hate to keep you from him…”

            Yuuri beamed at the wiggle of her eyebrows, the nudge of her head in the direction of the door, the knowing smile. That was his cue to exit, sharply. With a quick kiss to her cheek (which earned him a playful smack on the arm) and a mouthed ‘thank you’, Yuuri made his way to the lobby, pulling his light-blue jacket on as he walked.

            Takeshi was heading back into the restaurant with his wife’s jacket as Yuuri headed out. He picked up his pace when the larger man winked at him again.

            “Remember what I said, lover boy! If you can’t be good, be careful!”

***

            Bracco Baldo beach wasn’t too far away from Verona that they had to leave early, but far enough away for Victor and Yuuri to feel as though they could escape prying eyes. The sky was overcast and the breeze was chillier than yesterday, meaning the pebble beach was practically deserted, save for the occasional jogger or dogwalker along the sandstone pavement. With the summer season over, the usual crowds of dog owners at the pet-friendly beach were nowhere to be seen, although the red-and-white parasols were still on display, lining the stony shore. This suited the young lovers perfectly as they strolled along the beach holding hands, fingers twisted together. Every once in a while, one of them would stop and pull the other in for a soft kiss. Yuuri felt butterflies in his stomach every time, thrilled at the open display. Victor chased each kiss and blushing smile like a drunk chasing his next drink. He was addicted to the taste of Yuuri’s lips and was not ashamed to show it.

            It was too easy to forget about Verona, about the Grand Prix and their teams, both men found themselves thinking on a rare silent moment as they walked, smiling as Makkachin splashed in and out of the gentle waves, yapping excitedly every time a surge of icy-cold water caught him by surprise. It was too easy to pretend that they were the only people who existed, the rest of the world held back by the blue-grey clouds and glass-like water, blotted out by the sound of the waves and the gulls screeching overhead, even the chill in the air that kept people from the beach seemed to be cocooning them in this one spot.

            Makkachin, however, didn’t seem to notice his companions’ dreamlike gazes when he sprayed them with water for the dozenth time as he shook himself, icy droplets flying from his thick fur. Victor laughed and pretended to duck behind Yuuri every time his poodle ground his paws into the pebbles, preparing to shake himself, whilst Yuuri tried to keep his face covered, protecting his glasses from the salty water with a raised arm.

            “Makkachin!” Victor tried, and failed, to sound authoritarian as the poodle started jumping up at them, soggy paws leaving dark patches on their trousers. “Calm down or you’ll go back to the car.”

            “You wouldn’t really do that, would you?” Yuuri raised an eyebrow, giving his boyfriend a sideways glance as he tried to keep Makkachin on all four paws with a ruffle of his furry ears.

            Victor snorted with a wily smile. “Of course not, but how else am I going to keep the daft thing under control? Besides,” he sneaked a quick kiss to Yuuri’s cheek, “maybe I’m jealous of all the cuddles he’s getting from you today, lyubov moya.”

            Yuuri blushed a little, still unused to the pet name, especially when it was combined with the mischievous glint in those sapphire eyes. “W-well, maybe he’s better at asking for cuddles than you, w-watashi no ai.”

            Victor chuckled, the sound low and husky in his throat. “Oh? So I have to ask, do I?” Yuuri suddenly felt too warm as Victor snaked an arm around his waist, his cheeks burning as his boyfriend gazed down at him through heavy-lidded lashes, cerulean eyes flitting from his eyes to his lips. With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes and tipped his chin upwards.

            Victor sighed and cupped Yuuri’s cheek, his own eyes fluttering closed as he dipped his head forward, a slight pucker of his lips ready to claim his prize.

            Makkachin, however, had other ideas. Leaping with an overly-loud yap, he landed on Victor’s shoulder, knocking him sideways. The normally-graceful Russian man tripped on his own foot and landed in the path of an incoming wave, the breath frozen in his lungs by the smack of icy water. He sat there, dumbfounded and struggling to breathe, silver hair limply clinging to his forehead, his long-sleeved maroon t shirt soaked and his jeans soggy and cold against his legs.

            Yuuri threw his head back and clung to his stomach as he laughed. It was a knee-jerk reaction, he couldn’t help it. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he howled with laughter, his head going light and dizzy as he struggled to catch a breath, his legs shaking as he struggled to stay upright. Even when Victor splashed him, sprays of icy water hitting his face and sending a chill over his skin, he still laughed. And the sight of Victor pouting, his lower lip jutted out and a frown furrowing his perfect eyebrows only made him laugh harder.

            “I-I-I’m s-s-s-sorry-y-y, Victor.” He spluttered, finally able to draw a breath without it being punched out of his lungs by a laugh. He offered his hand to his boyfriend but Victor lightly slapped it away and stood up with a shake of his head.

            “It’s alright.” Victor grumbled, staring down at his soaked clothes incredulously. “I suppose that serves me right for laughing at you yesterday when Makkachin pounced on you.”

            “Oh come on. It wasn’t like that - ”

            Victor’s angelic smile stopped Yuuri mid-sentence. Yuuri rolled his eyes and huffed a soft chuckle. He was slowly learning the little tell-tale signs when Victor was teasing him; the sly wink that was almost invisible to the naked eye, the tiny twitch in the corner of his mouth when he was trying to keep a straight face, and the sweet, bright twinkle in his eyes when he failed to do so. Yuuri smiled back at him, noticing the keening whine coming from Makkachin, who had conveniently hid behind his leg when Victor landed in the water with an almighty splash.

            “I know. But I still think he - ” he aimed an accusatory finger at the whimpering poodle, “is getting more and more naughty every day. I blame you, Yuuri Katsuki.”

            “Me?” Yuuri sniggered. “What did I do?”

            “You’ve cast a spell on my puppy!” Victor declared dramatically, pushing his damp fringe out of his eyes. “You with your cute Japanese words and your cute smile and all your cuddles and kisses.”

            “Victor,” Yuuri drawled with a lopsided smile. “You sound jealous again.”

            Victor shot a smile at him so bright it was almost blinding. “Merely making an observation, lyubov moya. I don’t blame Makkachin for loving you more than me, seeing as I know how he feels.”

            Yuuri felt his cheeks burn a little and he awkwardly scratched the nape of his neck, glancing down at Makkachin. The poodle tilted his fluffy head to one side and stuck his tongue out. Yuuri took that as a sign that he was agreeing with Victor. He blushed again at the idea that Victor and Makkachin both loving him so much. He had never given much thought to how it would feel to have someone love him. Yes, he knew he loved Victor, and now Makkachin too, and he knew how wonderful that felt, but to actually feel someone else’s love for himself.

            It was new. Scary. Exciting. Amazing.

            Victor stood silently with a soft smile, watching the realisation dawn on Yuuri’s face like the waking of a new day on the horizon. He felt his heart skip in his chest as he saw the moment Yuuri finally realised that he actually loved him, felt that love inside him. It made him even more beautiful than before, as if he began to glow with a heavenly light. He could have stood there all day, just gazing at his beautiful Yuuri, giving him all of his love just to keep him glowing like that.

            But the wind brushed against his wet t shirt in the wrong way, the cold material making him gasp and shiver again as droplets of icy water stuck to his skin. Muttering under his breath in garbled Russian, he hooked his fingers under the hem of his t shirt and yanked it over his head. After smoothing down his hair, happy that it wasn’t sticking up at all angles, he twisted the wet shirt between his hands, wringing the residual water out of it.

            Yuuri’s hand flew to his mouth, just as a tiny squeak escaped his treacherous lips.

            Victor’s half-naked body was even more toned than in his dream! Droplets of water trickled from his hairline, down his defined collarbone, past his toned chest and down his stomach. His eyes involuntarily followed a single bead of water trail between the ridges of his abdomen to slip into his navel, and Yuuri felt the sudden unexpected urge to dip his tongue there to retrieve it.

            He squeaked again, this time into his hand as he clamped it over his mouth, feeling his cheeks burn hotly.

            ‘Not now! Not here, in public!’ he scolded himself, even as he caught himself ogling the way the chill in the air was making Victor’s nipples pert and pebbled. ‘You can’t let Victor see you like this! Not after your stupid exhibition yesterday!’

            He was about to turn around when he heard a low, velvety chuckle come from his boyfriend. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he brought his eyes up to look into Victor’s eyes and audibly gulped at the dark mirth in those sapphire pools.

            “Yuuri,” Victor drawled as he stepped closer with (Yuuri noticed with a hammering heart) an obvious roll of his hips. “you’re staring.”

            The younger man remembered himself saying that exact same thing the day before. His brain quickly scrambled for what it was that Victor had said to him.

            “M-merely admiring the view!” he stammered, feeling like his eyes were going to pop out of his head as Victor stood no more than a few inches in front of him, another droplet of water daring him to follow it as it slid down between his pectorals.

            Victor’s lilting laugh made his eyes dart upwards again so fast it made him dizzy. The Russian nodded to the water behind him, not taking his eyes off Yuuri’s blushing, gawping, adorable face. “The view is that way.” He whispered, his voice barely audible over the waves and the gulls.

            Yuuri swallowed down a lump in his throat. He recognised the taste as his body telling him to run away before his anxiety took hold, but he ignored it. Instead of feeling frightened by the surge of adrenaline in his limbs as Victor smiled down at him, he felt…strong, like he had never felt before.

            _Sexy. Yes. That’s what this is._

A crooked smile stretched his mouth as he made a very obvious display of looking Victor up and down, his lip caught between his teeth as he drank in every detailed dip and curve of his chest. “Maybe I like this…”

            His sentence trailed off as he spotted something on Victor’s waist, just below his ribs on his left side. At first glance he had thought it was a shadow, maybe even a birthmark, but now that he was inches away from him, Yuuri could clearly make out the ragged edges of the long, silvery-pink mark that marred his otherwise perfect skin. It wasn’t that big, probably no longer than his forefinger and as thin as –

            As a needlepoint. Or the tip of a knife.

            Yuuri gasped and stepped back a little. He didn’t mean to. It was another kneejerk reaction and he instantly regretted it when Victor frowned at him, clearly puzzled at the sudden change in mood. He glanced down at himself and swiped his hand over the scar on his waist, stepping backwards like he had lost his balanced and huffed out a loud, agitated breath.

            “I…I’m sorry!” Yuuri spluttered, realising that he was still staring at the spot where Victor’s hand was. He looked up and his heart lurched at the distant look in Victor’s eyes as he looked out over the water rather than back at him. “I-I didn’t mean to stare.”

            Victor laughed. Not his usual light, musical laugh, but a harsh, cutting noise that made Yuuri’s blood run cold. “Now you know why I stopped wearing revealing costumes once I hit the Senior division.”

            Yuuri felt another gasp rise in his chest. He’d had that scar for that long? Now that he mentioned it, his inner fanboy quickly recounted every photo of Victor that he had collected over the years and he suddenly realised that it was true; Victor used to wear translucent costumes or outfits with revealing shapes cut into the fabric when he was a Junior. Then when he debuted with Montague Corp as a Senior, he had switched to figure-hugging costumes that kept him covered up, save for maybe his upper chest or arms, but never his full torso. He chided himself for being too wrapped up in fawning over his idol to not once stop and ask, ‘why?’.

            Victor kept his eyes glued to the skyline, the grey clouds swirling over the water like an endless woolly blanket. Maybe if he focused on the dull, colourless expanse he could blend into it, away from Yuuri’s sparkling eyes and pitying looks. He had run away from that scar and the pity that came with it for so many years that he had almost forgotten about it, until this very moment. And he wanted it to go away. He wanted to cup the icy water in his hands and just wash the mark away like a speck of dirt. Lord knows he tried when he was younger, before he had seen a therapist. Before he had met Yuuri. He wanted Yuuri to only see the best of him, not…not _this_!

            He was brought out of his stormy mind by a gentle touch on his hand. He snapped his head to the side and saw Yuuri looking at him with huge, shining chocolate eyes. Yuuri slowly wrapped his fingers around Victor’s hand and brought it up to his lips, gently kissing the spot between his first two knuckles.

            “Victor,” Yuuri whispered, rubbing his thumb in slow, reassuring circles over the back of Victor’s hand, “it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. It’s none of my business, and I’d never pry, so - ”

            “No.” Victor cut him off, gripping his hand. “I mean, it’s okay. I…I want to tell you. It’s just…” he shivered, suddenly remembering that he was still topless. He wrapped his arms tight around his chest, keeping his hand over his scar, as if hiding it from view would just make it disappear. His t shirt was still in his hand, wet, cold and crumpled.

            Yuuri unzipped his jacket and silently handed it to Victor, who stared at it for a moment with wide eyes, like he was handing him a bouquet of flowers. With a soft smile and a whispered “Spasibo”, he pulled the jacket around his shoulders and zipped it up. It was a couple of sizes smaller than what he normally wore, so the sleeves stopped halfway down his forearms and the chest was snug, but it was still warm from Yuuri’s body heat. Victor found that surprisingly comforting, feeling his boyfriend’s warmth around him.

            “I’ve never worn a “boyfriend jacket” before.” He teased. It was a weak attempt at humour, one that Yuuri saw right through. But he still offered a small smile and another gentle squeeze of his hand. Victor drew a shuddering breath and turned towards Yuuri. His palm felt sweaty and his heart was in his throat, a tiny voice he hadn’t heard in a long time began whispering in his head.

            _‘He’ll think you’re broken. Damaged goods. He’ll only pity you and then leave you.’_

            ‘No.’ he shook his head and cleared his mind. ‘Not Yuuri.’

            He ran his other hand through his hair before settling it on the crook of his neck, looking into Yuuri’s eyes like they were the only things that mattered.

            “You remember what we talked about yesterday?” he asked quietly, his voice thick in his throat and shaky. “Well, when I said that I’ve never…been with a-a man, that…that wasn’t entirely true.”

            He waited for a moment, praying that he wouldn’t have to spell it out to Yuuri. Then he wished he’d never said anything at all. As he watched Yuuri’s eyes narrow before blowing wide when he figured it out, his eyebrows going from a knitted frown to almost disappearing into his hairline, his soft lips hanging open in a horrified ‘o’ shape, he wished that he could erase it all and pretend he’d never said it.

            Then something shifted behind Yuuri’s glasses. Like a filter had been dropped over his irises, making them appear brighter and deeper than before. His lips reset themselves into a firm line and he held Victor’s hand tighter.

            Yuuri felt his heart hammer in his ribcage as Victor appeared to shrink in front of his eyes, the glittering god of the ice reduced to a shell of a man in a blink of an eye. His mind surged with a million scenarios, each one more frightening, more horrific, more infuriating than the last, but he didn’t want to scare Victor or force him to relive whatever happened.

            “You don’t have to tell me.” He reassured his boyfriend again, his voice shaking with what he realised was rage. It was probably the first time he’d ever felt so angry.

            Victor shook his head. “I need to keep going. It’s fine, really. Maybe we should sit down.”

            They walked silently, hand in hand, to a bench just off the pebble beach. Yuuri didn’t take his eyes off Victor as they sat down, noticing that Victor kept a few inches between them. As much as he wanted to close that gap and wrap his arms around his boyfriend, he respected the space, rubbing the pad of his thumb over Victor’s knuckles just to remind him that he was still there for him. That he wasn’t going anywhere. Victor must have sensed the message and gave him a weak smile before turning his gaze back to the murky skyline. Makkachin sat on the ground between the two of them, his black eyes darting between them both as if asking why they had suddenly stopped playing, but he didn’t make a sound.

            “You probably know that I joined Montague Corp when I was about to enter the Senior Division. I was fourteen when I won gold at my last Junior championship, a week before my fifteenth birthday and my parents threw this huge party for me at a fancy hotel to combine the two celebrations. There were so many people there, some I knew from my skating connections or through my family, some I didn’t recognise but were introduced to as the night wore on. All of them wanted to hug me, see my gold medal and wish me a happy birthday and, well, I was having the best night of my life. I loved how nice everyone was and, I’ll admit, it felt good to be the centre of attention.

            Anyway, at some point in the evening, a man I didn’t know came up to me and shook my hand, congratulating me and wishing me a happy birthday.”

            Victor stopped as an image of a weathered face, greasy ginger hair and catlike green eyes flashed in front of his eyes. His breath caught in his throat and he began to tremble.

            “Victor, you don’t have to tell me.” Yuuri’s soft, sweet voice. It rang out like the chime of a bell, pushing the image away. “It’s alright.”

            “I’m fine.” He drew another deep breath, pulling Yuuri’s jacket tighter around his neck, breathing in Yuuri’s smell. It was clean like soap, with a faint hint of vanilla and warm like his body heat. It was odd how quickly it comforted him. “The man talked a lot about the competition so I assumed he was maybe a coach or a sponsor rep, so I stayed with him and talked for a little while. I even asked him about who I should sign up with for my Senior debut, if you can believe that. Anyway, at some point he gave me a drink and, well, I didn’t want to be rude, so I drank it. Then I felt dizzy and wanted to find my parents.

            The next thing I remember is waking up face down on a bed, my trousers and underwear were gone and a pair of big, rough hands were holding my hips and…”

            Victor let out a wet, shaky sob and he let go of Yuuri’s hand to wrap both of his arms around his chest and brought his knees up to his forehead. He clamped his eyes shut as the memory played out in front of his eyes, even as a voice begged for it to stop. A voice, he realised, that belonged to his fourteen-year-old self. He rocked himself slowly, his breathing growing louder and faster. The logical part of his brain tried to tell him that he was going to hyperventilate, that he needed to calm down, but he wasn’t listening. All he could hear was a little boy’s voice, begging over and over for it all to stop.

            “Victor? Victor, can you hear me?” Yuuri rubbed his hand up and down Victor’s arm in hurried circles. He recognised the signs of an oncoming panic attack. “Victor, if you can hear me, count with me. Nice and slow, okay? One, five, twelve, two, seven, three.”

            “One…five…twelve…two…seven…three…” Victor brought his head up to look at Yuuri with huge, wet eyes. As he replayed each number, he felt himself climb out of his panicked spiral. He blinked owlishly at Yuuri. “How…?”

            Yuuri gave him a sympathetic smile. “One of my therapists once told me that the brain can’t focus on a panic attack _and_ count out of sequence at the same time, so it chooses to focus on the task rather than the emotion. Did that help?”

            “Y-yeah. It actually did! Thank you! Remind me to ask you how to do that.” Victor breathed slowly and with less tightness in his chest. “I…I want to finish telling you what happened.”

            Yuuri took Victor’s hand again. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” He said gently, pouring every drop of reassurance into the words.

            Victor smiled again, a watery line on his paled face. “I-I tried to push him off me, but he pulled out a knife – I think it was a switch blade, I remember hearing a clicking sound – and poked me here with it,” he gestured to his side “and told me not to move “until he was finished”. I was so _frightened_! I began to panic, kicking and screaming at the top of my lungs and wriggling until I finally managed to kick one of his legs and push him away from me. But as I did, his knife caught me and I ran out of the room. I don’t even remember how I managed to run; one moment I was in the room, the man yelling at me not to run away, the next I was in the hotel lobby, half-naked from the waist down and bleeding. I walked up to the desk and calmly asked the receptionist to find my parents…and then I passed out.”

            As Victor told his story, Yuuri sat in stony silence, his hand slowly gripping Victor’s tighter and tighter until he couldn’t tell where his fingers stopped and his boyfriend’s began. He fought to keep the bile from rising in his throat and his chest began to heave as he tried to keep his breathing regular. He clamped his jaw shut, knowing that if he so much as opened his mouth he was either going to scream or throw up. He watched as Victor shrank in on himself again, the dreary sunlight that filtered through the thick clouds making his silver hair look dull and lifeless, his alabaster skin ashen, his sapphire eyes lost to a nightmare. Yuuri hated it. He hated everything about it.

            Victor looked down at the vice-like grip his hand was in, his knuckles white as he clung to Yuuri’s hand, seeing how his knuckles were white too. Something about that, that Yuuri was holding on to him as much as he was holding on to Yuuri, so tight that he knew he’d regret letting go, made him feel better.

            ‘I was right to do this.’ He thought to himself. ‘Yuuri hasn’t left.’ He still prayed that he wouldn’t.

            Looking up, he shook at the intense glare in Yuuri’s eyes. It was like looking at a caged animal, nothing but rage and hatred burning in those normally soft, bright eyes. Yuuri’s jaw was trembling from him clenching it so tight, his nostrils were flared as he drew long breath after another. At first Victor was afraid that he had said too much, that Yuuri was disgusted by what he had heard. But when Yuuri met his gaze, a bolt of lightning shot down Victor’s spine and spread adrenaline through his limbs.

            _He’s angry. He’s angry that…that it happened. That it happened to me. Oh. Oh! Oh, Yuuri!_

He tentatively reached up and cupped Yuuri’s cheek, snapping him out of his murderous look in a blink. The moment his hand touched his warm skin, the brightness shone out of Yuuri’s eyes again, the light that Victor was always drawn to. After going through the nightmare again, Yuuri’s eyes were like torches guiding him out of the dark, and Victor wanted those torches to never dim.

            Yuuri wrapped his fingers round Victor’s hand and drew it to his lips, leaving a featherlight kiss on the heel of his palm. The touch brought a small smile to Victor’s lips, a little more genuine than the one before.

            “I…I’m so sorry, Victor.” The words felt stupid and worthless, even as they passed Yuuri’s lips. ‘Sorry’ just didn’t even begin to cover how angry and shocked he was, how much he wanted to take the pain away, how much he wanted to find that man and make him pay for what he did.

            Victor rubbed his thumb over Yuuri’s lips, tracing the soft warmth there. “It’s alright. My parents took me to hospital and I was patched up straight away. As you saw, it wasn’t too bad. The doctors said I was lucky that he didn’t actually hold it too close to my skin. And not long afterwards I signed my contract with Montague Corp and moved to St Petersburg. The rest, as they say, is history.”

            Yuuri didn’t like how blasé Victor sounded. It was clearly a coping mechanism. Yuuri suddenly realised that, maybe all this time, the public persona that Victor had created was all part of him coping with what had happened; the dazzling smile that never reached his eyes, the flirty comments during interviews, the almost-impossible routines. He felt ashamed of himself for being so fascinated with that image for so long, never even bothering to look any deeper until now.

            “What happened? To…him?” he asked numbly, afraid to say it too loud in case his anger got the better of him.

            Victor’s smile disappeared instantly and his hand dropped from Yuuri’s cheek. He brought his knees up to his chin again, gazing out over the water again.

            “Yuuri, remember where I’m from.” He said flatly, staring out to the horizon, the grey line between sky and water almost invisible. “I was a fourteen year old ice skater, who everyone already branded as “gay”. Do you really think the police were going to take me seriously?”

            Yuuri thought about that for a moment. As much as he hated to admit it, he was probably right. It was wrong. So very wrong! He couldn’t shake the image of a frightened young Victor from his mind, terrified of something he had no control over, scared of the authorities who were supposed to protect him, shamed into silence.

            “Besides,” Victor continued with a resigned sigh, “I heard a rumour not long after I joined Montague Corp that he was found in a ditch somewhere. Apparently it was a mugging gone wrong, but there wasn’t enough evidence for an arrest. I remember Yakov telling me not to ask too many questions, so I didn’t.”

            Yuuri wrapped his hands around himself, shuddering at the implication and at the cold, distant look in Victor’s eyes. He couldn’t imagine ever being in a situation like that. He prayed he’d never have to.

            After a few minutes in complete, heavy silence, Victor suddenly sat back and rubbed his hands over his face, breathing a huge sigh of relief. He felt lighter, like a giant boulder had been lifted off his chest and he could finally breathe for the first time in years. He had talked to a therapist not long after he joined Montague Corp, but talking to a clinical, cold person wasn’t the same as talking about it with someone who genuinely cared about him. He realised, with a smile, that it felt good – freeing – to tell Yuuri about what had happened.

            “I slept with that girl as a way of proving to everyone – probably myself more than anyone – that I was fine. That I was the one in control of my body, not that…pervert. Of course, it didn’t make me feel any better – in fact I felt ten times worse! But everyone stopped going on about my sexuality and my love life for a while, which allowed me to focus on my skating. In the end, that’s what mattered the most. As long as people paid attention to my skating, I could block out the rest of my life.”

            Yuuri slowly rose to his feet, trying to take it all in. He stared out at the beach, the landscape now appearing alien after what he had heard, like he had stepped out of a dream onto a colourless plane. The only colour he could see was the blue in Victor’s eyes and the chocolate brown in Makkachin’s fur. Everything else was dreary grey. He ran his hands through his hair, his fingernails scratching at his scalp just to make sure he was awake, that there was still feeling in his numb, trembling body.

            He tugged at the thick strands, balling his fists in his hair. He suddenly felt the primal urge to hurt, maim, _destroy_! For the first time in his life, he actually wanted to punch someone, anyone! It made his arms shake, his stomach churn, his legs tremble. His whole body vibrated with anger and he didn’t know how to release it without upsetting Victor.

            Victor sat on the bench, watching Yuuri. He could tell he was trying so hard not to explode. Lord knows he felt that way for a long time after that night. He clasped his hands together on top of his knees and just hoped that Yuuri would stay.

            “Well, now you know my dirty little secret.” He tried to say lightly, but the words stuck in his throat. He felt dirty. He always had. And now Yuuri would see him like that too. He cast his eyes to his shoes, not wanting to see the disgust in Yuuri’s eyes.

            Yuuri suddenly turned and dropped to his knees in front of Victor, the movement so fast the Russian man barely registered it until he felt Yuuri cup his cheeks in his hands, his chin being pulled up sharply, his eyes widening in surprise as he met Yuuri’s gaze.

            “Nothing about you is dirty, Victor.” Yuuri practically shouted in his face, brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Nothing!”

            And before Victor had a chance to realise what he had said, Yuuri crushed his lips against his in a hard, heated kiss, his fingertips almost digging into his jawline as he pulled him forwards. Victor made a surprised “mmmph!” sound against Yuuri’s lips, blinking rapidly. Then he melted against Yuuri’s chest and gripped his shoulders like they were the only solid thing on the earth, returning the kiss with all the desperation of a man possessed. He had been so frightened of Yuuri seeing that scar and finding out the one piece of his life he had tried so hard to run away from. But now, with Yuuri running his hands through his hair and over his shoulders as the kiss deepened and slowed from a feverish clash of lips and teeth to a warm, tender dance of fingertips and tongues, Victor felt more like himself than he had in years.

            All thanks to Yuuri. Yuuri, who hadn’t run away, but kissed him like he was the most desirable person in the world. Who accepted him for who he was, who he really was.

            Yuuri clung to Victor as they kissed, hoping that Victor understood what he was trying to show him. That he still loved him, just as much as he did this morning if not even more. That he would never leave. That he accepted this dark part of his past, of himself, and wasn’t afraid of it. With every gentle swipe of his tongue against Victor’s, he wanted him to know how much he loved him. With every shared gasp and whispered sigh, he hoped that Victor felt safe with him, that he knew he was there for him. With every tentative brush of his fingertips over Victor’s cheek and neck, he knew in his heart that this was the real Victor, the one only he knew and got to see.

            He knew that he would love _this_ Victor for the rest of his life.

            As they both came up for air, a shiny string of saliva keeping their lips connected for a second, they gazed deep into each other’s eyes, Victor’s hands wrapped tightly behind Yuuri’s neck, Yuuri’s fingers splayed on Victor’s shoulder blades. Victor noticed how Yuuri’s glasses had become slightly crooked on the bridge of his nose and smudged. Yuuri saw how Victor’s cheeks and lips were flushed bright pink.

            “Thank you,” Yuuri whispered, smiling up into the shimmering pools of Victor’s eyes, “for telling me. For trusting me with your secret. I promise you won’t regret it.”

            Victor smiled sweetly, pressing his forehead to Yuuri’s. “Do you remember what else I said yesterday?” he paused, smiling as Yuuri pursed his lips together. “I told you that I’ve already decided to trust you with my heart. So I know that I’ll never regret telling you.”

            As Yuuri leaned back to smile at him again, a single ray of sunlight broke through the thick grey clouds, bouncing off the water’s glassy surface. Victor gasped in awe as the light illuminated the water and sky behind Yuuri, as colour began to spread across the skyline, blue and white pushing the grey away. His heart thumped a little bit harder at the sight of Yuuri’s cheeks, dusted pink, as the light hit them, softening the creamy complexion of his skin to something almost ethereal.

            Yuuri felt his smile grow wider as the sunlight brought the sparkle back to Victor’s hair, the rosy glow back to his cheeks and the dazzling colour back to his eyes. Reaching up to brush the knuckles of his fingers along Victor’s cheek, he felt himself fill with pride; he was proud of how Victor had overcome something so horrible to be the champion he was known to be, proud that he felt closer to him now than he did an hour before, proud that, somehow, this amazing man had chosen to trust him and be with him.

            “I promise I will never let anyone hurt you again.”

            The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. And when he heard himself say them, Yuuri wanted to bury his face in Victor’s chest just to hide his blushes. That had definitely sounded better in his head!

            Victor snorted with laughter, his smile finally reaching up to his eyes again. Leaning forward to rub the tip of his nose against Yuuri’s, he let out a melodramatic sigh.

            “My hero!” he declared as he wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s neck again.

            Yuuri felt his whole face catch fire. “I was being seri- _mmmph_!” he was silenced by a soft, deep kiss, one that he gladly and eagerly returned.

            Makkachin let out a high-pitched, keening whine, resting his fluffy chin on Victor’s lap. Either he was fed up with having little or no attention being paid to him, or he sensed his master’s sombre mood.

            Victor immediately broke away from the kiss and pulled Makkachin onto his lap, burying his face in his soft, warm fur and hugging him close to his chest. A painful lump caught in his throat as he remembered every time he had fallen asleep clutching to his poodle’s fur, the puppy being a gift from Yakov when he had joined Montague Corp.

            “I don’t know where I’d be without you, boy.” He whispered into the thick fur, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. Makkachin huffed a quiet bark and shifted to lick his cheek with a rough tongue. Victor smiled, swearing that sometimes Makkachin understood him.

            Yuuri stood up and brushed down his knees, the joints aching a little from kneeling on the stony ground. He sat back down on the bench and wrapped one arm around Victor’s shoulders, the other hand ruffling Makkachin’s fur as he looked out over the beach. Now that the sun had finally broken through the clouds, the pebble beach didn’t look so cold anymore. The water blinked invitingly in the light, the smoothed-down surfaces of the tiny stones shone like mirrors. Even the breeze felt a little bit warmer, the cries of the gulls overhead no longer sounded ominous, instead reminding him of the beach back home in Hasetsu. He imagined Victor and Makkachin running along the soft shore, laughing as they kicked up sprays of water and sand. The image brought a smile to his face.

            Victor listened to the lapping of the waves and the gulls screeching in the sky and leaned into Yuuri’s embrace, settling Makkachin back on the ground between them. The gulls reminded him of cold morning runs in St Petersburg. He glanced over at his boyfriend with a tiny smile. He liked the idea of one day showing Yuuri where he lived, of walking hand in hand with the younger man as he shared happier memories with him.

            They might have sat there in comfortable silence all day, if Makkachin’s stomach hadn’t suddenly growled noisily, making them both start.

            “I guess someone needs feeding.” Victor chuckled, standing up and stretching his arms high above his head. “I think I saw a Japanese restaurant in town as we drove over here.”

            “Really?” Yuuri asked, his mood lightening.

            Victor nodded. “I’ve never had Japanese food before, so I’m trusting you with lunch. Any recommendations?”

            Leaping to his feet and linking his fingers with his boyfriend’s, Yuuri felt a grin burst onto his face. There was only one thing that would make this date better.

            “Have you ever heard of Katsudon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!!!**
> 
> I want to apologise for my silence. Almost six weeks without an update :'(
> 
> During that time, my health - both mental and physical - has taken a hit and I didn't want to disappoint anyone with a lacklustre chapter, especially as I wanted to handle this chapter delicately.
> 
> On top of this, RL has been stressful (anyone who has worked in retail over the Christmas period will understand what I mean) and has some things have really affected me.
> 
> _Plus_ my broadband router decided to give up the ghost on NEW YEAR'S EVE OF ALL DAYS!!! It served me well for nearly six years, may it rest in peace.  
>  Sooo I had to wait for my replacement router, which came today :D
> 
> Now, I've decided that I don't want to have anymore long, unexplained absences, but I don't want to compromise the integrity of this story. I started writing this because I fell in love with writing again and I don't want to fall out of love with it.
> 
> So, I will be changing Star-Crossed from a weekly update to a monthly update, unless I state otherwise (which will always be BEFORE I post a new chapter). I hope you understand and will continue to read and support this story.
> 
> The next chapter - the second part of Yuuri and Victor's second date (coz I'm a sucker for fluff lol!) will be posted on **THURSDAY 31ST JANUARY.**
> 
> Hope to see you then. In the meantime, please leave a comment and say hi. I'll always reply :)
> 
> xxx


	22. I Have Been Feasting With Mine Enemy (And It Was Vkusno!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuuri's second date continues. After what was revealed at the beach, what could possibly bring a smile back to the Russian's face?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to **k_haruyuki** , who has been here from the very first chapter :)
> 
> Because today is her BIRTHDAY!!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!! :D
> 
> Annnnd...
> 
> she's given Star-Crossed its first [FANART](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16783174/chapters/40908932)!!!!! Thank you so, so much! I love it AAAAHHHHHHH *squeals until my throat is sore*
> 
> Hope everyone loves this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it - it's EXTRA fluffy ^_^

           “Vkusno!” Victor declared for the twentieth time as he licked his lips, catching stray grains of rice with every flick of his tongue. He flopped unceremoniously back in his chair, rubbing his belly. “Why have I never had Katsudon before?! It’s incredible! Truly, there are no words! This must be what God himself eats!”

            Yuuri sniggered, giving up on trying to keep Victor quiet. He had hushed him and quietly apologised to the people at the next table for his overenthusiastic outbursts so many times it seemed pointless to keep trying. Besides, he thought Victor looked positively adorable every time he fumbled with his chopsticks, how every mouthful of pork cutlets and egg made him groan in such an embarrassingly sinful way it made Yuuri blush every time, how Yuuri kept having to point out where grains of rice stuck to his cheeks as he wolfed down his food.

            Plus, Yuuri realised with a tender smile as he handed another napkin to Victor, it was good to see him smile after what had happened on the beach.

            “It’s my favourite.” Yuuri said as he ate his meal a bit more carefully, his brain already working out how many miles he’d have to run on the treadmill in the hotel’s gym to burn off his food. “I usually only eat it off-season or when I win a medal.”

            Victor playfully poked his belly, making him squeak in that horrible “piggy” way that Mari and Yurio always laughed at. He froze in his seat, waiting for Victor to start laughing at him.

            It never came. Instead, the Russian man merely smiled sweetly at him and shuffled his chair a little closer to his.

            “I think I like the idea of you being kind of chubby.” Victor whispered with a sly grin, bringing a bright blush to Yuuri’s cheeks. “Cuddly, I think is the better word.”

            “Skaters aren’t meant to be cuddly!” Yuuri spluttered, internally screaming at the fact that he’d had a similar argument with his mum only a short time ago. He could feel the stretchmarks on his belly practically shine under his clothes and he protectively placed his hands over his stomach.

            ‘What is it with people obsessing about my weight?!’ he thought with a jolt of panic coursing through him.

            “But boyfriends are allowed to be cuddly.” Victor giggled, trying to wrap his hands around Yuuri’s, only for him to shirk away from him. His laughing stopped instantly at the way Yuuri moved away from him, something he hadn’t done before. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He apologised quickly.

            Yuuri let out a huffed breath. “It’s not your fault. I’m just…sensitive about my weight.”

            Victor lay his hand on the table and waited for Yuuri to take it, curling his fingers around his smaller hand. “If I ever say or do anything stupid like that again, please tell me. I’d rather you tell me I’m an idiot than be upset with me.”

            Yuuri gripped his hand a little tighter. “I’m not upset. You didn’t know. And now you do.”

            Victor smiled. “And now I do.”

            The two men smiled knowingly at each other as they paid for lunch and picked up Makkachin at the front door of the restaurant, the poodle’s belly full of scraps of chicken and pork that the kindly old woman who ran the business insisted on giving him. Despite it being subjects that neither of them particularly liked about themselves, they were letting each other see a side to them that day that made them vulnerable, awkward, embarrassed. It made them feel closer. Something that showed on their matching smiles and blushing cheeks.

            “Come again!” the manageress called in broken English, patting Makkachin on the head. “You two – cute boys. You – come again, hai?”

            “Hai. Arigato.” Yuuri replies with a wide smile, the grey-haired woman gushing in rapid Japanese at him. The sight of Yuuri trying to snatch his arm free from the surprisingly vice-like grip of the tiny old woman as she suddenly tried to engage him in conversation, his cheeks burning as it appeared that she had asked something embarrassing, made Victor place his hand on his chest and beam.

            ‘He is too adorable for this world!’ he gushed to himself as Yuuri finally freed himself and grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the restaurant like the woman was going to pounce on him like a grey-haired tiger.

            After a slight jog down the street, the pair slowed to a leisurely amble as they glanced into the various shop windows of the small town. There were many independent boutiques, ranging from florists to jewellers, from bakeries to confectionaries. Yuuri liked how Victor grew more and more lively as they day wore on, pointing out things in the window displays and chatting animatedly about some of the crazy things he had purchased over the years (a diamond-encrusted collar for Makkachin that turned out to be cubic zirconia was one of his favourites, despite being ripped off). It was like the conversation on the beach hadn’t happened, and yet at the same time Yuuri couldn’t stop thinking about it.

            He thought about buying Victor a gift as he eyed various things in the windows, only to notice the price tags and feel his heart sink. He wanted something that would show Victor that he still felt the same way about him, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

            ‘If only I’d won at last year’s competition.’ He thought sullenly as he nearly balked at the price of a sweater on a mannequin, instantly forgetting his idea to replace the t shirt that Makkachin had inadvertently ruined (Victor was still proudly wearing his “boyfriend jacket” and, as sweet as that sounded, Yuuri didn’t really want him to go back to his hotel wearing it). ‘I’d have had a decent bank balance, for once.’

            Makkachin suddenly stiffened next to him, growling quietly, the slightest display of teeth from behind his furry jaws.

            “Makkachin?” Victor seemed just as surprised by the sound as Yuuri, frowning down at the poodle.

            Yuuri quickly looked in all directions, trying to find the reason behind Makkachin’s growling. Straight ahead of them, warming itself in the late afternoon sunshine, he spotted a fat ginger cat curled up on a doorstep. Opening a large green eye, it jumped to its paws and curled its lips back into a loud hiss, baring its fangs at the poodle.

            _Uh oh._

Yuuri and Victor both reached for Makkachin’s collar, but they were too slow. With a rumbling growl and a flurry of furry feet, Makkachin lunged at the cat, chasing it through the open shop door. They ran after him, shouting his name (Yuuri noticed that Victor seemed to be trying to stifle a giggle) as the poodle ran into the shop, his claws scraping on the polished floor tiles.

            Amidst the loud yapping, screeching and hissing, Yuuri heard the distinct sound of smashing china and grimaced. Tentatively stepping inside, he felt the grimace grow into a long, gut-wrenching groan.

            Of all the shops in town, Makkachin just had to chase a cat into a figurine store. The poodle was standing in the middle of the shop, paws firmly planted on the floor as he yapped repeatedly at the cat, who was now clutched in the arms of a rake-thin, middle-aged woman, a very smug look on its fluffy face. The floor was littered with shattered porcelain; figurines, vases, statuettes. All now nothing more than expensive fragments that crunched under Yuuri’s shoes with every step, no matter how delicately he walked.

            “Oh, Makkachin…” Yuuri murmured with another groan. The sound of his name made the poodle snap his head around to look at him. Makkachin bounded over to Yuuri with a pleased yap, almost as if he wanted to be praised for making such a mess.

            Victor snapped his fingers and pointed to his left leg, glaring at his dog. Makkachin quickly understood the command and lowered his head with a soft whine, coming to heel behind Victor. It almost made Yuuri’s heart ache to see the happy poodle look so forlorn, but even he had to admit that Makkachin may have gone too far this time.

            “Guarda questo casino!” the woman shrieked, her hollowed cheeks flushed as she stared incredulously at the carnage. “Quel cane è un mostro! A caccia della mia povera cara piccola così, spaventandola a morte!” she clutched the cat to her chest like it was going to disappear into thin air; the cat seemed perfectly fine, as far as Yuuri could tell.

            Yuuri stared wide-eyed at the shop owner, thrown off by the quickfire Italian. Even with Celestino and the Crispino twins trying to teach him, Yuuri had always struggled with the language. He had no idea what she was saying, but he could read the maniacal glint in her eyes well enough.

            Victor, on the other hand, flashed her his signature smile and gently nudged Makkachin towards Yuuri.

            “Le mie scuse, signora.” He said breezily, the woman caught offguard by his fluency; clearly she had been expecting a bumbling, stuttering tourist (Yuuri shared her sentiment as he gawped at the Russian). “Ho paura che il mio cane sia un po 'eccitabile oggi. Ma non preoccuparti: sono più che felice di pagare per il danno. E spero che il tuo dolce gattino non sia turbato da tutto questo.” Victor reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, presenting a black credit card and ruffling the top of the cat’s head. The cat flattened its ears and hissed at him. The woman, on the other hand, blushed and smiled at him, her tone softening as he engaged her in a quiet, easy conversation.

            Yuuri felt in total awe of Victor (and a tiny bit jealous of the way the woman patted his arm and laughed at whatever he just said to her as she stepped behind the counter). He wished he had as much confidence as his boyfriend, to be able to handle a situation like this without blushing and delving into a deep panic. And, he admitted to himself with a fluttering stomach, he was more than a little impressed by his fluent Italian. In another scenario, he might have been a little –

            Feeling the base of his neck suddenly feeling warm, Yuuri quickly ushered Makkachin out of the boutique and back outside. Glancing over his shoulder, he felt his stomach churn as Victor popped his credit card into the handheld card reader. Not for the first time that day, he noticed how little he could contribute financially to this relationship and hated how belittled it made him feel. He didn’t dare think about how much it was going to cost Victor.

            At least Makkachin seemed sorry, judging by the tiny whine that vibrated from his throat and the glossy shine in his black eyes. He nudged his furry head against Yuuri’s leg, curling around him in an almost feline display.

            Yuuri crouched down and cuddled the poodle, burying his cheek in the warm chocolatey fur. “As if I can stay mad at that face.” He chuckled, earning himself a slobbery kiss from the poodle, his glasses knocked slightly askew. “But I think we need to teach you not to jump all the time!”

            Makkachin let out a happy “WOOF!” and licked his new friend again. Yuuri rolled his eyes and straightened up, narrowly avoiding getting knocked down by Makkachin again. With a gentle scratch behind his ear, the poodle fell into step with Yuuri as he crossed the road, getting a safe distance away from the china shop (and the smug cat, who had returned to its spot at the door with a glare in their direction).

            Opposite the boutique was a pet store. Makkachin immediately sniffed at the basket of chew toys set up at the entrance, his tail wagging excitedly. At the top of the basket, Yuuri spotted a rubber chew toy shaped like a teddy bear, a bright orange thing with a cartoon-style smiling face and a purple bow tie under its chin. Picking it up to examine it, he squeezed it. A loud squeak caught Makkachin’s attention and he yapped ecstatically, bouncing on all fours and hunched forward, ready to play.

            Yuuri smiled warmly. “At least _this_ is in my budget.” He mumbled to the poodle as he went in to pay for the toy before dangling it in front of Makkachin’s face, giving it a quick squeeze. “Ready, boy?”

            Makkachin dropped his front haunches and wagged his tail, waiting patiently. When Yuuri threw the toy high in the air, the poodle looked like he was about to take off as he leapt up, catching the teddy bear and clamping his jaws over it, making it squeak over and over again. Yuuri laughed and made to pull the toy from Makkachin, the poodle engaging in a ferocious tug-of-war, growling playfully and shaking his furry head as he tried to make Yuuri let go.

            Victor stepped out of the boutique – fighting the urge to “accidentally” step on that damned cat’s tail – and glanced around, looking for Yuuri and Makkachin. At first he didn’t spot them and a chill settled his gut, worried that his pet had gotten his boyfriend in more trouble. As much as he loved Makkachin, that poodle was going to be the death of him if he didn’t calm down.

            “Good boy! Ready? Ready? Fetch!”

            Victor snapped his head to the direction of Yuuri’s lilting laugh and felt his heart flutter. Yuuri, with his cheeks pinkened and full as he laughed, was on his knees cuddling Makkachin as he shook something in his mouth, his tail wagging joyfully.

            Victor quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the ‘camera’ app, eager to preserve the adorable scene. He changed the settings first so that the picture would save to his memory card rather than his online file, the idea of someone finding it making him uncomfortable.

            ‘This is just for us.’ He thought as he happily snapped away, making sure to take several pictures so that he could pick his favourite later (though he had a funny feeling he would have a hard time choosing).

            Upon hearing the clicking sound of the app, Makkachin bounded over to his master and proudly dropped his new toy at his feet, yapping and preening, waiting for Victor to pick it up. The Russian examined it with pursed lips before looking over at Yuuri, who walked up behind Makkachin with a coy smile.

            “Did…did you buy him this?” Victor asked quietly, not really noticing when Makkachin snatched the squeaky toy out of his hand as he stared glassy-eyed at Yuuri.

            Yuuri blushed and twiddled his fingers together. “Is that alright? I mean, I’m sorry I couldn’t help pay for the damage he caused, and I had hoped to buy you something to replace the shirt that got wet - ”

            “Why would you do that?” Victor felt his heart thump hard in his chest as Yuuri’s blush deepened. Something about that blush just captivated him.

            “Well,” Yuuri tried to put it into words, despite the jumble in his mind, “because I wanted to. No other reason. I…I just thought Makkachin would like it. Is-is that okay?”

            Before Yuuri could panic even more about possibly overstepping the line, Victor flung his arms around his neck, planting a sloppy, loud kiss on his mouth and nuzzling his cheek against his (the irony of his boyfriend acting like his poodle not going unnoticed).

            “Anyone who’d think of Makkachin like that is more than enough for me!”

            Yuuri felt the blush creep down his neck as he struggled to break free of Victor’s embrace, aware of a few passers-by staring at them. But when he looked up at the sparkle in Victor’s eyes, he felt himself melt a little. He couldn’t help but smile back at him as Victor stooped to coo in excited Russian at his poodle, grabbing the chew toy and racing down the street back to the car, his musical laughter floating in the air as Makkachin gave chase.

            ‘Guess I did get Victor a gift, after all.’ He thought proudly before picking his feet up, laughing as Victor called for him to hurry up.

***

            Later that night, Yuuri had a feeling of déjà vu as he kissed Victor goodnight. Huddled on the bench seat of Victor’s convertible, he began to feel tingly all over as Victor carded his fingers through his hair, holding his head at just the right angle to keep their lips locked in a deep, lingering kiss. He sighed and slid his hands behind Victor’s neck, his fingers dipping below the collar of his crinkled (and still slightly damp) shirt to trace the curve at the top of his spine, smiling at the tiny shiver under his fingertips. He loved how he was starting to learn the tiny things that told him what Victor liked; how he liked it when he brushed his fingertips over his neck or arms rather than his nails, how he liked it when he nipped his lower lip with his teeth. He loved how he was learning what he liked Victor to do when they were kissing; how he liked to be held tightly against his chest, how he _really_ liked it when Victor applied just the tiniest bit of pressure to that spot on his neck below his ear. But he hated the anxious knot that came with all of that, from the fear that someone could see them now they were parked just outside of Verona again.

            “Yuuri.” Victor murmured against his lips, and he knew what he was going to say.

            “I know.” He replied, not hiding the bitterness in his voice as Victor sat up, the evening air significantly cooler without his warmth next to him. “Back to reality.”

            “Hey now,” Victor tucked a loose strand of raven hair behind his ear before cupping his cheek, “don’t say it like that. We’ve had the most amazing weekend; let’s not end on a gloomy note, eh?”

            Yuuri leaned into Victor’s palm with a heavy sigh. “I know. It’s just…”

            “What?”

            “It just feels like a dream. The whole weekend. Being here, with you. Everything. And now I – we – have to start training again tomorrow and I’ve got to wake up and - ”

            Yuuri’s eyes grew impossibly wide as Victor pressed a gentle, sweet kiss to his lips. When he pulled away, the softest, warmest smile was dancing on his lips, that were still slightly rosy and puffy from their more passionate kisses.

            “I know what you mean.” Victor’s voice was barely more than a whisper as he brushed his fingertips over Yuuri’s cheek, sapphire eyes taking in every part of his face like he was imprinting it all to his memory. “A dream come true.”

            He reached for Yuuri’s hands – which had locked together in his lap somehow – and brought them to his lips, dusting each knuckle with a light kiss, smiling sweetly as Yuuri worried his lower lip between his teeth.

            “Now,” Victor’s voice suddenly grew louder, echoing a little in the deserted street, as he released Yuuri’s hand and sat back on the bench seat, a slender arm stretched languidly across the headrest, “I expect you to throw yourself back into your training tomorrow. I want you to dazzle me when our own sessions resume.”

            Yuuri grinned at the cheeky wink Victor gave him as he said that last part and leaned back, his cheek resting on Victor’s forearm. “Oh, I don’t know about that. How can I possibly dazzle you if you keep coaching me? I wouldn’t be able to surprise you.”

            Victor gasped dramatically, pressing long fingers to his chest. “Did you hear that, Makkachin? Yuuri is already abandoning me for his career!”

            Yuuri laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling when Victor stuck out his lower lip, making a whining sound that even Makkachin must have found cringeworthy. “If you stop it with the hurt puppy look, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

            Something sparked in Victor’s eyes, the deep blue igniting like two fireworks in the dark. Leaning closer, curling his fingers from the headrest to behind Yuuri’s head, he whispered hotly, “Oh? And just how do you intend to do that?”

            Yuuri pitched forward and planted a kiss on Victor’s cheek, catching the Russian off-guard. “By showing the world my love for you.”

            For a moment, Victor sat frozen, blinking owlishly at the younger man, his hand slowly tracing the spot on his cheek that tingled with Yuuri’s kiss. Then, out of the blue, he threw his head back and cried out, clapping his hands over his eyes, his feet pounding on the floor of the car.

            “Victor?!” Yuuri squeaked, checking that no one had heard the girlish squealing that was flooding out of Victor’s lips. “What the hell?!”

            Victor released his face and turned to Yuuri, a ridiculously goofy grin on his face, his eyes sparkling and shining like he was about to start crying. “Damn it, Yuuri. I swear, you are too cute for this world!”

            Yuuri blushed furiously. “Th- _that’s what that noise was about?_ ”

            “What?” Victor asked innocently. “Aren’t I allowed to be excited when my boyfriend says romantic things to me?”

            Boyfriend. Romantic. Those were two words that Yuuri would never had used to describe himself. And he’d certainly never imagined in his wildest dreams that Victor Nikiforov would ever use them to describe him. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach and he awkwardly smiled at Victor, rubbing his bicep nervously.

            “…I guess. Just not so loud, okay? What if someone heard?”

            Victor pursed his lips together. Right. They were back in Verona. The weekend was over. As much as he knew it was going to kill him, he’d have to start pretending again. Pretend that he wasn’t madly in love with his rival. Pretend that they were secretly meeting to prepare a routine that would no doubt change their lives forever.

            Pretend that he couldn’t wait for that day to come.

            Sensing the sombre shift in the mood, Yuuri kissed Victor’s cheek again and whispered goodnight, smiling wistfully when Victor returned the kiss. As he opened the car door and stuck his foot out, his eyes caught something shine on the carpeted floor. Leaning down with a bemused frown, he picked up a pebble, no doubt trodden in from the beach.

            Bringing it up to the light, he noticed that the shine was due to how smooth the pebble was, years of lapping waves shaping the pale pink stone into a tiny heart, the streetlight almost reflecting off its curved surface.

            Just when Yuuri thought he couldn’t possibly blush any more, he somehow found enough space in his face for more blood to rush up to as he wordlessly held his hand out to Victor, his eyes fixed on his shoes. He felt Victor’s fingertips brush along his open palm, plucking the pebble from his hand. It was only then that he flicked his eyes to the side, his heart pounding in his ears as he tried to gauge Victor’s reaction.

            Victor turned the pebble over in his hands, holding it up to the light and running a slender finger over the heart-shaped surface, humming quietly to himself, like he was inspecting something much more valuable than a piece of stone.

            “Rose quartz.” He stated quietly, curling his fingers around the pebble to clutch it to his chest, turning sparkling eyes back to Yuuri. “Trust you to find a precious stone on a pebble beach. And by accident too.”

            “Semi-precious.” Yuuri corrected, remembering something from a geology class he took in school.

            “Not to me.” Victor said, bringing the pebble to his lips to kiss it. “To me, it’s the best gift I’ve ever been given. Because you gave it to me.”

            Yuuri turned his head, looking up at the moon. “One day I’ll give you a better gift.”

            Victor raised a brow, smiling crookedly. “Oh really?”

            Yuuri nodded. Victor noticed the determined set of his jaw, much like whenever he was about to practise a difficult jump combination.

            “One day, Victor, I’m going to give you the world.”

            It took a whole ten minutes of Yuuri pleading and Makkachin licking his face to get Victor to stop squealing again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So their weekend is (finally) over. That can only mean one thing:
> 
> TIME FOR SOME SKATING!!!!
> 
> *tries not to panic* I feel like it's been forever since I've written any skating...I'm slightly scared lol.
> 
> Hope you're all still here for this story, despite the month-long wait. I'm still struggling to catch up, so the next chapter will be posted on **THURSDAY 28TH FEBRUARY**.
> 
> Your messages mean everything to me. Leave a comment or a kudos (or even some more fanart? k_haruyuki has made me hungry for more XD)
> 
> Love you all xxx


	23. They Flub That Skate Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Heat of the World Grand Prix commences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you've all had a good month :)
> 
> I'll be honest, I just about finished this chapter on time lol. This time I can blame my research - FIVE wiki pages, plus my playlist on a constant loop...it's a good job I had a week's holiday this month so I could really get stuck into the programs XD
> 
> Speaking of which...please listen to the [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEnkKaNTEz3S7P8JcDQHWNF1O2nrxlSCa) from songs **23-31** for all the skaters' programs. I hope you like my choices  <3

           “Welcome back for the Second Heat of the World Grand Prix!” Escales’ voice boomed over the cheering crowd, his smile bright under the spotlights in the centre of the rink. He spread his hands wide, slowly turning on the red carpet that stretched from the Kiss & Cry to take in the sight of the arena packed to the rafters again. “As the competition progresses, I hope you’ll join me in wishing the remaining competitors all the luck in the world. And this stage will certainly be exciting for you – this time, our skaters were given a theme to prepare.”

            He paused for effect, grinning at the collective ‘oooh’ that filtered through the arena.

            “Yes, this time they have prepared routines that represent themselves and their lives.” Escales took a moment to allow the crowd to settle again after they burst into to rapturous applause, the idea of somehow learning more about their favourite skater’s personal life making them shriek with delight. “And now, please join me in welcoming back our competitors!”

            Yuuri shook the nerves from his arms as he began to slowly walk towards his team’s box, followed by Sara, Yurio and Michele, dressed in their team’s official black-and-blue tracksuit, Celestino and Minako following behind them with Yuuko and Takeshi bringing up the rear.

            “Smile, Yuuri.” Sara whispered, her own smile fixed to her face as she waved warmly to the cheering crowd. “At least look like you want them to like you.”

            Yuuri mustered a weak smile and wave, only to shrink back as several fans on the front row seemed to hyperventilate.

            “Oh my god! He’s so cute when he blushes!”

            “Yuuri, we love you!”

            He felt his cheeks burn as more and more fans hollered in his direction and he had to fight the urge to run to Team Capulet’s box and get to his seat. The others, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease with the mania; Sara winked and blew kisses over her shoulder, flicking her long hair, Michele shook hands with a few fans and Yurio posed for selfies with several girls who were clearly part of the self-proclaimed ‘Yurio’s Angels’ fan club, accepting gifts of plushie cats from a few with a rare smile (something that reduced the girls to floods of tears, Yuuri noticed with a gulp).

            He breathed a sigh of relief when he eventually made it to his seat and watched as Montague Corp and the Independents make their way to their own boxes. His eyes fixed on Victor as he waved jubilantly at the crowd, his signature smile flashing brighter than the flashes from paparazzi cameras. His jaw tightened at the sight of that fake, soulless smile, the one that hid so much from the world.

            ‘What I wouldn’t give to make him smile his real smile right now.’ He thought with an ache in his chest, images of the smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle, that made his soft lips form that beautiful heart shape, filling his mind.

            Since their weekend, they had barely seen each other, save for a few nights when they had managed to sneak away for their secret training sessions. Yuuri had been worried that his parents were getting suspicious about why he kept leaving the hotel after dinner every night, and Phichit had asked him to hang out a few times. Victor had, of course, understood his boyfriend’s anxiety and had agreed to keep his distance for a little while, just to keep people from finding out.

            “Just don’t ask me to stay away for too long, lyubov moya.” He had whispered one night as they kissed goodnight after they had left the arena. “I don’t think I can.”

            Yuuri had felt the same way, but had said nothing. He wanted to spend every day with Victor, to skate with him, hold his hand in the sunshine again, to kiss him until neither of them could breathe. But he couldn’t shake this feeling that someone would see them. That their whole plan to reveal their love would be ruined. So if he had to cope with a few lonely nights without his boyfriend, it would be worth it in the end.

            Victor risked a glance in Yuuri’s direction as he took his seat, his stomach flipping when his eyes locked on Yuuri’s chocolate ones, the ghost of a smile dancing on his lips, a faint blush dusting his round cheeks. It amazed him that he felt like that every time he saw Yuuri, like each time was the first, even after all that time. He wondered if that feeling ever went away. He hoped not.

            “Got any more surprises planned for this Heat, mon ami?” Chris’ smirk snapped the Russian out of his daydream as he sat next to him, olive-green eyes scanning the crowd, trying to find whoever it was that had caught his friend’s attention.

            Victor felt the skin under his collar grow hot when he realised what Chris was doing and turned fully in his seat to face him with a flick of his silver hair. “If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” he teased lightly.

            Chris hummed thoughtfully. “That seems to be your mantra lately.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “It means you keep surprising us, but not always in a good way. Your little display at the last Heat, your disappearing acts, even the way you conned Lilia and Yakov into giving you the weekend off - ”

            “I didn’t con anyone!” Victor interjected incredulously.

            “Like hell you didn’t!” Chris spat, perfect brows knitting together. “I know you too well, Victor – you’re hiding something. I don’t know what it is, but I hope it’s worth all the skulking around and “surprises”, for your sake.”

            Victor felt a chill run down his spine as his best friend turned his back on him, picking up the conversation between Georgi and Mila and effectively shutting him out. Yuuri had been right to be cautious, it seemed. He hadn’t noticed how cool his friends had become since that weekend until now, but now he saw it – the way conversation became stilted when he joined them for breakfast, the way they seemed to avoid him at their training rink. He hadn’t given it much thought, his mind too preoccupied with his programs and his Yuuri to pay much attention.

            He made a mental note to start changing that when they got back to the hotel. It had been a while since one of their drinking games, he thought with a smile. Maybe that would put him back in their good books.

            But, for now, he tried to focus on the competition, on getting through to the Final. After one last look in Yuuri’s direction.

            “Vitya!” Yakov’s booming voice made his ear sting, the nickname not making it any less harsh. “Are you even listening to me?!”

            “Da.” He said tiredly, finally giving his coach his full attention.

            After the attendants removed the red carpet from the ice, the official fanfare blared over the sound system, marking the start of the competition, the audience beginning to cheer and applaud again.

            “First up, representing Team Capulet, is Michele Crispino.” John the commentator announced, the Italian skater shrugging off his tracksuit jacket and making his way to the gate. “He will be skating to the song ‘Mambo Italiano’ – no surprises there!”

            His co-host rolled her eyes at his dry quip. “I guess all we can say is “buona fortuna” to the first skater of the Second Heat.” Laura smiled at Michele from her seat in the commentator’s box, her smile growing when the lilac-eyed lad nodded his thanks to her as he took his starting position in the centre of the rink.

            His costume was kept simple – a white sleeveless t shirt tucked into black trousers with black braces – in the hopes that the judges would focus more on his technique. The song was upbeat, with a strong bass line; something that the Italian young man hoped would be memorable for the first program of the day.

            As the music began, he pushed forward on his right foot, starting with a basic one-foot spin, kicking his free leg out to build momentum. Pushing out into a three-turn, he swayed his hips in time with the beat, shimmying his shoulders in a classic mambo move as he glided over the ice.

            When the drum beat began, he launched into a double toe loop – single Euler – double axel combination, his skate hitting the ice in perfect synchronisation with the beat. As the lyrics pounded over the sound system, the energy seemed to flow from the skater out to the audience, who began clapping in time with the bassline, chanting the lyrics until they echoed back to Michele.

            He threw his head back, arching his shoulders and splaying his fingers, dropping into a layback spin before twisting out into an impressive step sequence, his skates blurring along the ice.

            The sweat poured from his brow and clung to the back of his shirt as he launched into a quad lutz, his fists tucked close to his chest to keep his balance as he clearly struggled to keep up the fast pace of his routine, nearly wobbling out of an inverted spiral.

            “He looks tired out there.” Sara whispered behind her hands, her knees knocking together.

            Minako hummed in agreement. “I told him he shouldn’t try to put so much emphasis on the step sequences and try and get some more solid jumps in there.”

            “His step sequences aren’t the problem.” Celestino said sombrely, glancing over at the judges’ box, hoping to get an idea of their thinking as they scribbled notes. “The problem is his stamina; he started off strong but you can clearly see he’s slowing down.”

            It was true; by the time the music faded and Michele finished his program with a hydroblade, lying down on his side, almost as if he was casually sprawled on the ice, it obvious that he was gasping for breath, his tanned face flushed and shining with perspiration.

            Yuuri noticed a worried glance between Celestino and Minako as they went to join Michele at the Kiss & Cry and frowned. He recognised it as one his parents often shared before he joined Team Capulet; when they were worried if he couldn’t cope anymore as a professional skater.

            ‘Michele’s only a year younger than me.’ Yuuri thought with a tightening of his jaw. ‘Surely he’s got years left in him.’

            But as Michele collapsed onto the padded bench with his coaches, Yuuri began to doubt his teammate’s future, which in turn made him question his own. Skating was tough on the body, especially after a certain age, but Yuuri had often wondered if he would only have one season with Team Capulet before being forced to retire. The idea that Michele might leave before him made him feel anxious. It was like watching sand in an hourglass; it was only a matter of time before the last grain of sand hit the bottom.

            _‘I don’t know how much longer my body will hold up, so please God, help me make the most of this. Help me make the most of my time here with my team. Help me make the most of my time with Victor. Please.’_

“And the scores are in,” Laura’s voice over the sound system broke Yuuri’s prayer and he looked up to his teammate, huddled with Minako and Celestino with an anxious look on his face, “Michele’s been awarded 103.6, not a bad start to the Second Heat.”

            Michele hung his head as he slunk back to Team Capulet’s box, sinking into his seat and gratefully accepting the bottle of water that Sara offered with a sympathetic smile.

            “You made it into the hundred bracket.” She said cheerfully, making her twin scoff.

            “Barely. I could hardly keep up with the music. Did they speed it up or something?”

            “Nope. You’re just getting old.” Yurio muttered coolly, earning him a sharp lilac-eyed glare from both twins. The blonde teenager shrugged. “But, then again, you’re all old compared to me, so I wouldn’t care too much.”

            Michele shook his head, nudging Yurio’s shoulder. Yuuri noticed the corner of his mouth twitch and smiled himself.

            ‘He really does have a funny way of showing he cares.’ He mused, holding his hand up placidly when Yurio glared at him, his emerald eyes flashing with a ‘ _what are you looking at?_ ’ glint.

            Across the rink, Yakov and Lilia were giving Georgi some last minute instructions, the dark-haired Russian humming thoughtfully as he made some adjustments to his makeup; thick fluorescent yellow eyeshadow over his lids up to his brows and across his temples, layered with bright pink and purple eyeshadow, electric blue eyeliner and bright pink lipstick that made his thin lips look thick and pouty.

            Mila and Anya sniggered as he made his way to the barrier, his costume of a white-and-aquamarine leotard with fluorescent pink and green sweat bands on his wrists and forehead with matching leg warmers looking garish against the silver sheen of the ice.

            “I swear to God, that makeup gets me every time!” the red-headed Russian shrieked when Georgi was out of earshot, wiping her eyes and clutching her stomach.

            “He looks like a clown in drag!” Anya’s hissing made Victor roll his eyes. “He’d better not start crying or anything – I’d _so_ hate for him to ruin his makeup.”

            Victor frowned. “Why would he be crying? What did you do to him this time?”

            Anya snorted defensively. “Nothing, this time. While you were off on your secret getaway, Lilia and Yakov nearly wore him out working on his program. He came back to the hotel every night in tears for a week – not that you noticed, I’m sure.”

            Victor flinched at her cutting remark and turned his head back to his teammate as he pushed off onto the ice. Had Georgi been crying every night? Had he really been so self-involved that he hadn’t noticed? For even Anya to comment on his lack of sympathy, he really did need to make it up to his friends.

            “Georgi Popovich’s program is set to a song that he says is from his favourite childhood movie.” John read from a note card with an air of disbelief. “Well, I guess it will be a nice change of pace from the last Heat.”

            Georgi ground his teeth at the snide comment and took his first position; head down, knees slightly bent and apart, his right arm out straight to his side and his left hand up in the air in a tight fist.

            The sudden burst from an electric guitar made the arena vibrate and Georgi swung his fist in a circle, like he had made that note appear in his empty hands. As a drum beat joined the electric guitar, he brought his left foot in front of him and kicked into a scratch spin, his speed accelerating as he brought his foot in, matching the rhythm as an electric keyboard joined in the introduction. As the first verse began, the singer’s vocals strong and defiant, he began an almost angry step sequence, carving sweeping curves into the ice as he raced around the rink.

_Give me your hand, I’ll pull you through_

_Give me some time and I swear to you_

            As the chorus burst over the sound system, he launched into a triple salchow onto a mohawk, then a cross-grab catch-foot spiral followed by a flying sit down spin as he flung his leg free from his hand for more momentum.

            “The audience is really getting into this!” Laura exclaimed as clusters of fans began cheering and clapping in time with the drum beat, others screaming with delight at the energetic jump sequences. “This is truly a welcome change to his routines so far!”

            “Which movie is this from?” Yurio asked, lounging back in his seat, his feet hooked together on the back of the chair in front of him.

            Minako groaned. “It’s from ‘Jetsons: The Movie’. Thanks for making me feel old because I know that and you don’t!”

            The teenager smirked at his coach. “It’s not my fault that the idiot picked a weird movie that no one’s heard of!”

            Sara hummed thoughtfully, resting her chin on her hand as she watched Georgi crossed his hands in front of his chest before he arched into a death drop, almost like he was reaching into his chest to rip his own heart. “I don’t think he picked it because of a film.”

            Georgi’s crystal-blue eyes shone as he looked towards his team’s box, a weak smile stretching his painted lips as he glided into an Ina Bauer, sweeping his hand towards the box, fingers reaching for the brunette Russian woman.

_You and me, were made to be in love_

_Don’t let them tear us apart_

            Anya groaned and smacked the heel of her palm to her forehead as his eyes sought her out.

            “Not again!” she cursed. “He promised me he wasn’t going to do that!”

            Mila shot her teammate an amused look, smirking. “And you believed him?”

            Chris nudged her shoulder. “Admit it; you’re enjoying being his inspiration this year.”

            Anya blushed as she folded her arms across her chest. “No, I am not! Do you have any idea how much abuse I’m getting online because of all of this?”

            Chris shrugged. “So get back together with him. It’s obvious he’s not going to give up until you give him another chance.”

            Anya shot to her feet, glaring at the Swiss skater. “I don’t want to get back together with him! Why should I when all he’s done so far is embarrass me?”

            “You could try looking at it another way.” Victor mused, watching Georgi execute a high-kicked butterfly spin as the electric guitar riffed. “He’s clearly in love with you and he’s proud to show the world how much he wants you back. That actually takes a lot of guts. Being brave enough to put his heart on the line and say, “I love you” in the most vulnerable way, in front of thousands of people…I actually envy you.”

            _‘Because I can’t do the same for Yuuri.’_

He didn’t see the wide-eyed, slack-jawed expressions on his teammates, Chris looking like Victor had said something profound, Mila looking like he’d said something in a foreign language, Anya blushing like he’d revealed some intimate secret.

            “Since when were you an expert on love?” she asked in a stuttered voice.

            Victor shrugged with a tiny smile, his eyes flicking to Yuuri’s seat for a split second. “I’m not. Not really. Just a beginner.”

            Chris clapped a hand to his shoulder, making him grunt in surprise. “I knew it! I knew it! I knew you were sneaking off for a tryst!”

            “Tryst?” Victor half-laughed, half-choked. “I-I don’t know what you’re - ”

            Chris hushed him. “Don’t be so modest, mon ami. Now, promise me that when we get back to the hotel you’ll tell us everything. You know, we’ve had a bit of a wager on you these past couple of weeks.” He added with a cheeky wink.

            “Oh really?” Victor laughed with a raised brow. “Pray tell, what was this wager?”

            Chris shrugged, almost looking embarrassed. Almost. “Well, Mila and Anya thought you were in talks with another team and were calling you a traitor - ”

            “Excuse me, we did not use the word ‘traitor’!” Mila interjected with a pointed finger. “We were just…concerned that you were getting poached from us.”

            “Right.” Chris drawled. “Anyway, Minami and Seung Gil thought you were considering retiring and were trying to let us down gently by distancing yourself from us.”

            Victor smiled fondly. “Believe me, if I ever decide to retire, I will not be going out quietly!”

            “Oh, I don’t doubt that!” Chris chuckled.

            “And you?” Victor asked. “You haven’t told me what your wager was.”

            “Well, me and Georgi thought that someone else was involved in your disappearing acts. And it looks like we still know you better than anyone else.” He wrapped his arm around Victor’s shoulders in an affectionate hug.

            Victor rolled his eyes and grinned. “Yeah, I guess it does look like that.”

            “So?” Chris asked with a smirk and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Are we going to meet your sweetheart? They must be something pretty special if you’ve kept them hidden from us all this time.”

            Victor felt his cheeks grow rosy, unable to keep his smile in check. “All in good time. It’s still early days.”

            Chris pouted. “Fine! But they’d better know what they’re getting themselves into – dating the sexiest man in the world.”

            “Really? The sexiest?”

            “Well, after myself. Naturellement!”

            Victor returned his friend’s embrace as Georgi completed his program, slowing down to a corkscrew spin as the music faded. The crowd filled the arena with rapturous applause as he joined Yakov and Lilia at the Kiss & Cry, waving his arms brightly at his fans.

            His face fell, however, when his score of “97.6” flashed up on the score board.

            “It looks like the judges weren’t too keen on that routine,” John said glumly as the Russian skater made his way back to his team box, head hung low as Yakov and Lilia talked animatedly behind him (no doubt arguing over what could have been improved in his program), “but it’s still early – who knows what’s in store for the rest of today’s event?”

            Georgi wiped his eyes with a fluffy sweatband as he re-joined his team, smearing fluorescent eyeshadow across his face. “I…I was so sure I did everything right.” He mumbled, his lower lip wobbling.

            “Maybe the judges are just being picky this time.” Victor tried to sooth his friend, patting his arm. “That Crispino guy only just scraped into the hundred bracket, remember?”

            “But I didn’t even get into the bracket!” Georgi snapped, blue eyes sparkling wet. “I’m as good as out of the competition already!”

            As his teammates tried to comfort and encourage him, it was like he couldn’t hear them as he scrunched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, his whole body trembling.

            “Hey, Georgi?”

            His eyes shot open as Anya spoke, almost timidly, from behind him. He turned to face her, his eyes growing to the size of saucers at the tender expression on her face as she handed him a pack of makeup removal wipes from her kit bag.

            “S-spasibo.”

            “Ne upominay eto.” She mumbled quickly, blushing slightly before returning to her seat, ignoring the amused glances from her teammates.

            “Look at that idiot.” Yurio scoffed with a sneer from Team Capulet’s box. “Crying like a little baby.”

            “You haven’t performed your program yet,” Celestino said pointedly, raising his eyebrow, “so I’d hold off on any criticism for now.”

            “Do you think I’m not going to get through to the next Heat or something? Wow, great motivational speech, coach!”

            The Italian man turned fully in his seat with a deep frown. “I’m being serious, Yurio. Michele barely got more than a hundred points, and Popovich didn’t even get into that bracket. The judges are clearly being tougher today. I don’t want you to get too comfortable. We need you to be at your best. For the team’s sake!”

            Yuuri swallowed thickly as he listened, watching the colour drain a little from the teenager’s face, his coach’s words falling around his ears as if he was talking to him as well. Celestino was right; two programs into the competition and the scores were nowhere near as good as in the last round. He began to feel panic settle in the pit of his stomach.

            He quickly shook his head and returned his focus to the rink as the commentators announced Otabek as the next skater. There was no point in worrying just yet, not until he knew what the other skaters had up their sleeves.

            The Kazakhstani skater stood casually at the barrier, leaning against the wall with a cocked hip and his arms folded across his chest. Dressed in skinny black jeans, slashed along the kneecaps and thighs to reveal olive-toned skin underneath, a mint-green t shirt with an eagle in mid-flight emblazoned on the chest and a red-and-black checked shirt, his black hair gelled down to one side so that it almost hung over his eye (that was covered in thick kohl eyeliner), Otabek looked more like he belonged in a skate park than an ice rink.

            “Did he not get changed when he got here?” Michele scoffed. “Or did he lose his costume?”

            “What’s wrong with his costume?” Yurio snapped, making his teammate smirk at him.

            “Oh, nothing.” The Italian teased. “If you like that kind of thing. I mean, we’re supposed to be representing ourselves in this round; I didn’t have Altin pegged as an emo skater boy.”

            “And I didn’t have you pegged as an asshole, so looks like you’re both surprising everyone!” The Russian hissed before turning his eyes back to the rink as Otabek looked up from the floor. It almost looked like he was looking directly at him.

            “Hey, Otabek!” Yurio suddenly stood up and cupped his hands around his mouth, his voice booming out around the arena. The Kazakhstani skater’s eyes widened a little, but his cool demeanour didn’t even flinch as he turned his head a little. “DAVAI!”

            Otabek acknowledged the holler with a quick thumbs up before waving his hand to the sound team, letting them he was ready to start. Yurio sat back down and rested his chin on his thumbs, his green eyes flashing excitedly when he saw the corner of his friend’s mouth twitch. He was trying not to smile, trying to stay in character.

            ‘Man, this guy is so cool!’ he thought with a crooked grin.

            Michele gawped at the youngest member of their team. “How come you never cheer for any of us like that?”

            “Coz I don’t need to, do I?” Yurio shrugged without looking at Michele.

            “Don’t need to, or don’t want to?”

            “Fucking pick one and shut up! He’s about to start!”

            A few simple keyboard notes began to play and Otabek pushed off onto the ice into a simple rocker turn followed by another in the opposite direction, his arms hung loosely at his sides. Almost like –

            “Is it just me, or does he look like he’s on a skateboard?” Sara asked, noticing how he kept one foot in front of the other as he glided to the centre of the ice.

            Yurio let out a breathy laugh. This guy just kept on getting cooler!

            As the lyrics of an emo-rock song started to ring out over the arena, Otabek bent his knees and launched into a double toe loop – double flip combination, followed by a mazurka jump, his left leg kicking high like he was racing a skateboard up a ramp. When the bassline kicked in, he began a more energetic step sequence, his feet crossing over each other in strong diagonal lines before kicking into a split spin.

            “A flying sit spin…up into a skid spiral…now a triple Lutz – double toe loop – triple Lutz combination. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting dizzy watching this guy!” John spluttered as Otabek raced around the rink, the bassline of the song giving him an easy rhythm to follow, making the technical routine look like it barely took any energy out of him.

            “He really does look like a strong contender for the next Heat with that rather “awesome” routine to ‘Heaven Is A Halfpipe’,” Laura’s attempt at sounding cool only resulted in several spectators groan in disbelief as Otabek mirrored his starting movement with a series of rockers and Choctaw turns, sliding straight to the Kiss & Cry and flopping unceremoniously onto the padded bench as the audience stood up to applaud, “let’s just hope the judges feel the same way.”

            Yurio punched the air when a score of “104.2” flashed onto the score board and yell to Otabek again, just as a fan handed him a plushie teddy bear. Hooking the bear in the crook of his elbow, the Kazakhstani skater gave his young friend another thumbs up, this time with a slightly bigger smile.

            “He’s top of the leader board!” Yurio cheered, his cheeks flushing slightly as he bounced in his seat. “It’s about time the judges started giving the guy some credit!”

            Celestino chuckled at the teenager’s unusually-enthusiastic display. “He’s only the third person to skate, Yurio. You still have to skate, don’t forget – or are you saying that you’d rather an Independent come out on top?”

            Yurio blushed at the teasing. “No way in hell! I’m winning gold – Otabek can have silver!” he beamed, flashing his teeth like a tiger displaying its fangs. Celestino leaned over and ruffled his golden hair with another throaty chuckle, the teenager batting his hand away before fixing his hair back out of his eyes.

            “That Independent’s kind of cute.” Mila whispered to Chris behind her hand as he shrugged his tracksuit off, her bright blue eyes twinkling with mischief as the blonde man hummed his approval.

            “Not bad.” Chris agreed with a nonchalant shrug. “Not really my type.”

            “You have a type?” Mila smirked, folding her arms. “I thought it was just anything with a pulse and a - ”

            “Christophe!” Lilia barked, flashing the red-haired skater a chilling glare. “It’s your turn. I suggest you make your way to the rink before you get marked down for keeping the judges waiting.”

            Chris snorted, before his smile faltered. “Can they actually do that?”

            Lilia’s lips curled in something that might have resembled a smile, if it didn’t look so malicious. “Do you really want to find out?”

            Yakov chortled as the blonde skater hurried to the barrier, almost bumping into Otabek as he made his way back to the Independents’ box. “Lilia, sometimes I forget how devious you can be.”

            Lilia gave him a sideways glance with a scoffing laugh. “Which is probably one of the reasons we got divorced.”

            Victor masked a laugh as a cough and reached for a water bottle, trying hard not to look at the vein in Yakov’s temple that popped up as soon as his face turned bright red, spluttering his denials as Chris’ name came over the loudspeaker.

            “Next up is Christophe Giacometti, skating for Montague Corp. He says this song represents his love of a certain singer, as he will be skating to…oh dear…” John’s voice trailed off as he read from his cue card, coughing awkwardly and his face burning.

            Laura giggled and picked up the line. “As he will be skating to another Madonna song. We all remember his memorable routine to ‘Like A Virgin’ from the last Heat – well, this time he’ll be skating to…well, I think his costume says it all, don’t you?”

            Yurio balked and nearly dry heaved as Chris took to the ice with a flourished wave of his hand.

            Chris’ costume – a flesh-toned catsuit with strategically placed strips of black leather, wrapping in a spiral from his throat around his abdomen and covering his crotch and rear before trailing down his limbs in a lazy, almost blatant display of skin with thick body glitter along his cheekbones and lips – looked like it belonged in the kind of shop where the stock was kept behind velvet curtains and had red neon signs where people Yurio’s age where definitely not allowed.

            “Is he fucking joking?” the teenager spat with a look of utter horror on his face. “He’s getting worse!”

            Sara almost shrieked with laughter. “He looks ridiculous! I’ve heard of the expression, ‘less is more’ but this is something else entirely!”

            Michele swallowed thickly and deliberately looked to his trainers, having got changed back into his tracksuit after his performance. “No prizes for guessing which Madonna song he’s going to be skating to. Disgraceful!”

            Chris beamed, almost innocently, as shocked murmurs trickled down to the rink. He took his starting position in the centre of the rink, one arm draped over his eyes with his head arched back over his shoulders, the other behind his back as he knelt down on one knee, clearly in a submissive position for the normally-extrovert young man.

            A low, thumping bassline made his pulse vibrate as he arched his back further, the hand that covered his eyes trailing down his face and chest as he rocked in a circular motion until he was bent forward over his knee. As the percussion joined the beat, he rose to his feet, pushing his hips out in a lewd display, his hands trailing over the leather stripes of his costume. Then the drum kicked in and he pushed into a slow illusion spin, tilting his body up and down in time with the beat, his hands straight above his head, his fingers pointed together in an arrowhead.

            His step sequences were serpentine and languid as he flashed cheeky winks and puckered kisses to the audience, before arching back into a bent-leg layover spin, his spine parallel to the ice as he kicked his leg out to build momentum, suddenly jumping into a quadruple toe loop as the singer made a lewd noise before beginning the chorus.

            Yuuri blushed and quickly averted his eyes as Chris leapt into a split jump, the leather strips barely leaving little to the imagination as he spread his legs in the air. He kept his eyes fixed on his own hands, which were trembling and fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket.

            It wasn’t the first time he had heard this song, but it was the first time he had taken the lyrics to heart. He felt the blush creep down his neck as he remembered his wet dream. Of Victor. Of the dark, feral look in his cerulean eyes, of the way his pink tongue flicked over his full lips.

            His thoughts began to tick off every passionate kiss he’d shared with his boyfriend, every gentle caress of his fingertips along his cheek or jaw, every soft moan of his name he’d swallowed each time their embraces had gotten dangerously close to being more than just embraces.

            He swallowed thickly, feeling his dancer’s belt grow tight. Crap! He took a shuddering breath and focused on the trickier parts of his program in his head, trying to calm the fire that threatened to ignite in his gut.

            ‘I can’t skate with a hard-on!’ he thought with a cold sweat clinging to his brow. ‘What would people think? What the hell would Victor think if he…’

            He completely ignored Chris’ arabesque spiral, complete with a kiss blown at the commentators’ box (something that made both John and Laura splutter), and sought out Victor.

            Whether Victor was thinking the same thing as him, or he somehow felt the weight of his gaze, Yuuri wasn’t sure. But the faint blush on his alabaster cheeks and the way he blew out his cheeks and flapped his hand in front of his face, feigning overheating, made him almost laugh at loud. At least Victor was able to laugh at his friend’s ludicrous display, even if the rest of the audience was trying to decide whether to applaud or wolf whistle.

            Something in the way Victor smiled at him made him relax a little. Perhaps he was overthinking things, as usual. Perhaps he was letting Chris’ blatant sexual display get to him, making him feel inadequate.

            ‘Victor loves me, no matter what. I don’t need to act like Chris to satisfy him.’

            _Still, it probably wouldn’t hurt if you did. Just a little bit._

He was grateful when the song finished, the Swiss skater skidding to the ice in an impossibly low layback position, fingertips brushing over the ice like he was caressing silk. Or something else.

            After a heartbeat of silence, broken only by the sound of Chris gasping for air, the arena filled with screaming applause, whistles and cheers.

            “Wow!” JJ exclaimed from the Independents’ box, eyes wide and on stalks.

            “That was…different?” Otabek struggled to string a sentence together, opting to open another bottle of water.

            “Is it just me or does the ice look soaking wet to you guys?” Phichit sniggered, making the Kazakhstani skater choke.

            “And Christophe Giacometti jumps straight to the top of the leader board with a score of “110.7”!” Laura yelled over the raucous crowd, several officials attempting to get the spectators to simmer down. “And with a strong lead like that, it looks like the rest of the competition has a lot of ground to make up. Can anyone top that score?”

            Yurio bared his teeth and swore as Chris waved from the Kiss & Cry, practically ripping his tracksuit off to get ready for his routine.

            “There is no way in hell I’m letting that shithead get the gold medal for that sick show!”

            Yuuri quickly ducked as the teenager flung his jacket haphazardly, it narrowly missing his head. Minako and Celestino scurried after him, hissing at him to calm down as spectators began to snigger behind their hands, no doubt adding fuel to the ongoing dispute between Yurio and Chris.

            “He really doesn’t help things, stomping around like that.” Sara sighed, rolling her eyes. “He’s such a hothead – one of these days it’s going to get him in real trouble.”

            Michele nodded with a matching sigh. “Let’s just hope he uses all that angst in his program. Who knows? He might actually get a higher score than Chris.”

            “Up next is Yurio Plisetsky for Team Capulet.” Laura announced as the Russian teenager began to slink to the centre of the ice, taking large gulps of cold air to calm himself. “Hmm, I wonder if his costume is supposed to represent his new friendship with the Independent skater, Otabek Altin.”

            Yurio ground his teeth and clenched his fists. It was true; his costume – baggy forest-green cargo pants with three thick metal chains hooked in long hoops at his hip, a sleeveless tiger-print vest top and black beanie hat over his long hair, with leather spiked cuffs on each wrist and thick black eyeliner – looked slightly similar to Otabek’s skater outfit, but he hadn’t known what the Kazakhstani was going to wear! He wasn’t some copycat kid!

            ‘Guess I’ll just have to show everyone that I’m the one to remember, not Otabek.’ He thought with a huff, his starting position of him standing with his hands shoved in his pockets, one foot hooked over the other adding to his moody demeanour.

            “He’ll be skating to “Teenage Dirtbag” - ” John began to read out, before someone in the crowd interrupted him with a yell of,

            “DAMN RIGHT, HE IS!”

            Yurio’s eyes narrowed and he turned his head, trying to pinpoint who had shouted that.

            “HE IS NOT A DIRTBAG!”

            “HE’S A LITTLE PUNK!”

            “HE’S THE BEST!”

            A scuffle broke out amongst the fans and several people were escorted out of the arena in opposite directions whilst an official asked (firmly but politely) for everyone to remain in their seats.

            Yurio stood in the centre of the ice, his blood boiling. Not only had he been compared to another skater before his program had even begun, but now people were picking fights using his name.

            “What’s a guy got to do to skate around here?” he yelled, his voice slicing the air like a dagger, crossing his arms over his tiny chest to hide the tremor in his fists. He sounded petulant, even to himself. Good. He’d had enough of playing nice.

            “A-as I was saying,” John tried to recover his composure, clearing his throat once the official gave him the go-ahead, “he will be skating to “Teenage Dirtbag”, a song he says represents not only how he has felt at some point in his life, also shows that if he can get past that feeling, he hopes anyone can.”

            Celestino breathed a sigh of relief as groups of Yurio’s dedicated fans fawned over the speech. It had been his idea to release that statement, rather than Yurio’s preferred line of “it’s a kickass song”; it gave the moody teenager a sense of depth, of philosophical awareness, something that made him appear more approachable and understanding. He just hoped that Yurio would keep up the show in his routine.

            As the guitar and soft bass began to echo around the arena, Yurio nodded his head in time with the beat, a scowl fixed on his thin lips as he began a series of bracket and counter turns. As the lyrics started, he slid into a scratch spin onto a pancake spin, one foot hooked around his arm as he bent down as low as possible, his nose brushing against his kneecap. As the chorus burst over the loudspeakers, he bent his standing knee and leapt, his free leg flying wide to launch him into a quad salchow. His feet touched down on the ice in perfect synchronisation with the pounding drumbeat as he moved to a triple flip – single toe loop – triple flip combination then a Kerrigan spiral, his left leg high behind his back as he twisted on one spot.

            He grinned wickedly as the audience gasped at his flexibility. Being the youngest skater in the division, he had noticed early on that no one else could contort their limbs like he could, his Biellmanns and arabesques higher and straighter than any one else’s, his spine almost made of rubber as he arched back into an Ina Bauer as the music began to slow down for a moment.

            ‘I only have a short window before my body begins to change.’ He thought as he slowed into a corkscrew spin, twisting his gangly limbs like ivy around a tree. ‘I have to use every advantage while I still have it.’ He set his jaw in a tight line as the tempo began to pick up, thrusting his hips to increase his speed as he spun ever faster. ‘I. Will. Win!’

            He almost screamed that last thought as the drumbeat seemed to launch him in the air into another quad salchow then an impossibly fast step sequence, his fists clenched in the air as he threw himself around the ice and his teeth bared in a snarl. When the song finished with a vibrating guitar riff, he pointed his forefinger at the judges in a gun signal, flashing a wild, toothy grin at them as he “shot” them one by one. A couple of them smiled at his adolescent posturing, a couple rolled their eyes as they jotted down notes.

            His fans began to chant his name, throwing plushie cats at the Kiss & Cry as he joined Celestino and Minako, still smiling as they hugged him.

            “Wow!” Laura exclaimed, her voice barely audible over the screams of what sounded like a hoard of crying teenage girls. “Yurio Plisetsky certainly showed that he’s not some timid little kid! I hope the older skaters were paying close attention, because I think we may have just seen a strong contender for the Final today.”

            “Finally, that dumb bitch is talking sense!” Yurio smirked, collapsing onto the padded bench with an unusual ache in his lower back. He must have overstretched during that last Ina Bauer. He made a mental note to ask Takeshi to take a look at it once they got back to the changing room, the burly Japanese physiotherapist being better at kneading knots out of his muscles than his wife.

            He held his breath as he waited for his score to flash on the leader board, praying for a better score than that shithead, Giacometti.

            “105.9”.

            “You’re in second place!” Minako cheered, wrapping her arms around him in a death grip.

            “Second?” he hissed. “How the fuck am I second after _him_? Who the fuck is he shagging to get more points than me?”

            Celestino quickly ushered him back to the Team Capulet box before anyone heard his foul language, Minako clamping her hand over his mouth for a moment with wide, horrified eyes.

            “Next up is Jean-Jacques Leroy.” John suddenly announced (Yuuri suspected it had something to do with Yurio still spitting profanities as his coaches tried to get him to sit down), the arena becoming filled with awed silence as they eagerly awaited the Canadian skater. “Let’s see if he can maintain top position in this round, though as we’ve seen, it could be tough for the Independent.”

            JJ scoffed, rolling his shoulders as he made his way from the Independents’ box. “Tough? I don’t know the meaning of the word!”

            ‘There’s probably a lot of things you don’t know,’ Phichit thought with a sombre shake of his head, watching the Canadian beam at his fans, stopping to pose for selfies with his signature “JJ style” move, ‘like modesty, humility and sincerity.’

            He felt a little guilty for thinking bad of a fellow Independent – after all, without a major team, they were the only support network each other had – but there was just something about JJ that rubbed him up the wrong way. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. A quick glance in Otabek’s direction confirmed that it wasn’t just him who felt that way, judging by the way the Kazakhstani rolled his eyes and turned back to his phone.

            “So what do you think he’s picked to best describe himself?” Yurio asked with a wicked smirk. “hmm? “You’re So Vain”?”

            Sara sniggered next to him. “More like “Mister Vain”!”

            “My money’s on “I’m Too Sexy” – that sounds like something he’d sing to his reflection!” Michele’s lips twisted in a cold smile, the three teammates doubling up with laughter as JJ unzipped his tracksuit jacket.

            Yuuri kept quiet as he watched JJ take to the ice. His costume was pale blue with bold multi-coloured stars dotted all over his body, the spotlights catching the glittering shapes as he waved to the crowd. It was a simple outfit, and Yuuri suspected that he had chosen it so the judges would focus on his technique rather than his presentation.

            ‘If JJ really is the one to beat, mocking him isn’t going to help me.’ He thought, leaning his chin onto the pads of his upturned thumbs. ‘I need to watch him. I need to know how to beat him, not make jokes about him.’

            He was so deep in thought, Yuuri didn’t notice how the others were staring at him, wondering why he wasn’t joining in their little game.

            Yurio scoffed. “Leave him be. If the piggy’s too good for us, why should we bother with him?”

            “I do hope I didn’t just hear you say that,” Minako warned icily, not even turning her head away from the rink as she called over her shoulder, “not after our little chat at the start of the season.”

            Yurio gulped and sat back in his seat, tucking his knees under his chin and wrapping his arms around his legs, making himself as small as possible. Minako’s shoulders shook for a moment and the teenager bit down a snide remark.

            His coach was laughing at him!

            “Jean-Jacques Leroy has chosen the pop song, “Can’t Stop The Feeling,” John read from his cue card as the Canadian did a quick lap of the rink, the fans cheering as he glided past them, “and has said that this song best represents how he feels when he’s skating.”

            “That’s right!” JJ roared, his chest puffed out as he spun on his toe pick. “I’ll never stop this feeling!”

            The other skaters groaned at his cheesy joke. The fans, on the other hand, lapped it up, laughing and applauding. The sound team had to wait for them to settle again, an awed silence filling the arena as JJ struck his first pose – his arms spread on either side, hands curled into fists, his head thrown back over his shoulders. It almost looked like he was about to dive from a high board.

            He pushed into a slow Ina Bauer, flicking his foot out in time with the percussion beat. As the lyrics began he arched into a circular step sequence, clicking his fingers in time with the music as he rolled his hips and swept his skates in a Choctaw, then into a mohawk, then another Choctaw. The spotlights hit the multicoloured stars on his costume as he turned this way and that, the pale blue background almost blending with the colour of the ice.

            Yuuri realised with a gasp why JJ had chosen what appeared to be a simple costume.

            ‘It’s like he’s made of stars!’ he felt his jaw drop as, indeed, it looked like a tornado of coloured stars burst over the rink as JJ launched into a stag jump the very second that the chorus rang out, his arms flung wide behind him and his chin high in the air, his right knee pushed out in front of him and his left leg perfectly straight below him, parallel with the ice. He moved straight onto a double toe loop – triple Lutz combination, his wide grin never faltering as he spun effortlessly into a corkscrew sit spin, one hand high in the air for added difficulty.

            As the song went on, JJ became a blur of multicoloured, glittering stars, with a series of tuck axel jumps and fan spirals, his blades seeming to add to the percussion of the music as he dragged them along the ice.

            Yuuri felt like he was listening to the music underwater. All he could hear was the clapping of the audience and his blood rushing in his ears. JJ made his routine look simple, yet he felt himself tick off more and more technical points in his head, no doubt thinking the exact same thing as the judges as he saw approving smiles form on their faces.

            ‘JJ might not be flamboyant like Chris or filled with adrenaline like Yurio, but he’s still the one the judges like the most.’ The thought filled him with a sense of dread, knowing he was going to have to do something truly memorable to keep himself in the competition. But what? He began relaying his program in his mind, trying to find the tiniest place to tweak the routine without jeopardising it.

            “A 135 leg lift…now a Kerrigan – wow, look at the speed of that spiral! And it looks like, yes he’s going into a death jump! Now a hydroblade to finish and it looks like Jean-Jacques Leroy is well on his way to the top of the leader board with that unbelievable program!” Laura ticked off each technique, her voice trembling with shock as JJ’s last pose – lying on his side, his right foot level with his left knee, his chin resting on his left palm as he brought his right hand high in the air in a ‘peace’ sign – brought the crowd to its feet, the cheers almost deafening the other skaters.

            It came as no surprise to anyone when the score “112.9” flashed on the leader board, Yurio cursing as his name automatically got nudged down to third place on the electronic screen.

            “Forget what I said about Chris – JJ must be the one shagging a judge to keep getting these scores!”

            “For the love of God, will you please hush?!” Minako hissed exasperatedly, clenching her fists at her sides and gnashing her teeth. “You’re going to get yourself disqualified at this rate!”

            Yuuri’s phone buzzed in his jacket pocket, drawing his attention away from the whispered slanging match between Yurio and Minako. He chuckled quietly at the message from Phichit; a meme of a cartoon hamster waving at him. Glancing up, he saw Phichit make his way to the rink, grinning and waving at him.

            Yuuri waved back, cheering along with the crowd as he leapt onto the ice with a cheek-splitting grin. His costume was a pale gold tunic with a high collar and glittering buttons down the front and at his wrists, charcoal linen pants that looked like they were made of one long sheet wrapped around both of his legs in a baggy, floaty fashion, and a forest-green sash wrapped around his waist. It was simple but elegant, reminding Yuuri of tourist photos of shrines and palaces in Thailand. He had combed his thick black hair back from his eyes in a gentle wave, making it appear soft and silky rather than gelled back.

            “Coming up is the youngest Independent skater, Phichit Chulanont,” Laura announced with a huge smile, “and he has promised that this program will have us all booking flights to Bangkok – after the Grand Prix is over, of course!”

            Several pockets of fans giggled at the dramatic thumbs up the Thai skater thrusted up in the air at the mention of his home base. Yuuri smiled fondly; during their almost-nightly Facetime calls, Phichit had told him that ice skating wasn’t a big sport in Thailand, so he was hoping that taking part in the Grand Prix would open doors for fellow Thai skaters, and give his country a bit of a tourism boost that had nothing to do with Buddhism or Thai Brides (a remark that he often spat out with a grimace, Yuuri noted).

            Yuuri crossed his fingers and prepared to watch Phichit’s program as the Thai lad took his first position – sat on the ice in a lotus position, fingers pinched together with his arms laid on his knees, head down as if in meditation – and hoped that the song really did help his friend get his theme across.

            A drum-and-cymbal beat filled the arena, the rhythm forcing Phichit’s heart to thump in time with them as he lifted his head, his grey eyes flashing with determination. As a sitar joined the beat, he swept his left leg out and rose slowly to his feet, his arms sweeping to the sides in a wide arch. He spun twice on his right foot, arching his back and pushing his hands up to the ceiling before sliding into a serpentine step sequence, his arms and shoulders moving like they were made of rubber, creating shapes and patterns in the air as he kept his sequence languid and feline-like.

            “He’s got the grace of a Siamese cat!” Georgi gasped as Phichit leapt into a double flip and dropped to his knees, arching back until his head touched the ice, his arms writhing above him to look like snakes slowly emerging from a basket, before straightening up and pushing into a single axel – double Euler – single salchow combination. “And the song hasn’t even started properly yet!”

            Chris hummed appreciatively next to him. “He’s certainly got that air of Eastern mystery about him.”

            Georgi rolled his eyes. “Tell me you’re thinking about - ”

            “Mon ami, I never stop thinking about that!” Chris quipped with a sly wink. “But you can rest assured that I am preserving all my sexual appetites for my routines – for now.”

            Georgi chuckled just as the lyrics began. He recognised the song as being from a stage musical. He watched with amazement as Phichit’s routine suddenly shifted from looking like he was performing an ancient Siamese dance to an edgy modern dance, his movements becoming rigid and jagged, like he was punching and kicking the air in time with the electronic keyboard, his face going from smooth with calm reverence to lit up with fiery passion. And was suddenly filled with a sense of dread.

            ‘He could pass my score easily with this first half alone!’ he thought, pursing his lips together, silently praying he was wrong.

            Phichit flipped from a fan spiral, his left leg high and straight in front of him, into an arabesque, the audience cooing in awe at the effortless transition from one foot to the other without missing a beat.

_One night in Bangkok and the world’s your oyster_

_The bars are temples but the pearls ain’t free_

_You’ll find a god in every golden cloister_

_And if you’re lucky then the god’s a she_

_I can feel an angel sliding up to me._

            As the chorus kicked in, he flung himself into a triple toe loop, hoping to transition into a corkscrew sit spin, but his toe pick nicked the ice and he tumbled to the ice. He covered up the mistake with a series of sweeping kicks and flicks of his wrist, but he could see how every judge’s head suddenly looked down to their notes, no doubt marking him down for the bad exit.

            Nevertheless, the Thai skater pushed on, fixing his lips in a sultry pout and winking at the audience, becoming the seductive angel that the song spoke of. Yuuri was surprised by how easily Phichit managed to come across as sexy, given that all he knew of the younger man was that he was cheeky and funny, not to mention obsessed with his pet hamsters. But the way he smoothed his hands down to his hips and dragged his teeth over his lower lip as the song played on showed Yuuri that even Phichit had a better grasp of sensuality than he did.

            And as much as he wanted to support his friend, he began to worry that Phichit would fare better in this round than he would.

            As an instrumental interlude filled the arena with quivering sitar music, Phichit made up for his earlier jump with an impressive step sequence, dancing over the ice in wide arching movements. Then onto a double flip – double salchow – double flip combination, the crowd cheering when he landed it perfectly this time.

            When the song abruptly ended, Phichit spun in an accelerated Biellmann before dropping his foot to scrape his toe pick along the ice, sending a spray of silver crystals in front of him.

            Yuuri was the first to jump to his feet to applaud, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the paparazzi, who turned their cameras to him for a moment. Not that Yuuri cared at that point; he’d gladly ignore some ridiculous gossip column if it meant he could let Phichit know that he supported him.

            Phichit noticed him cheering and put his hands together in front of his chest in a cheeky heart shape, grinning as he made his way to the Kiss & Cry. He knew he wasn’t going to beat JJ’s score, not after his fall, but he hoped that his presentation score would make up the difference.

            “105.2” flashed up onscreen after a few minutes, the judges clearly arguing over how to score the Independent.

            Phichit breathed a huge sigh of relief and sank on the padded bench, scratching at his scalp and dislodging his carefully styled hair until it stuck up at odd angles. At least he wasn’t in the bottom two, despite falling.

            ‘I need to work on my jumps.’ He thought as he made his way back to the Independents’ box, a frown marring his normally cheery features. ‘I can’t keep relying on my presentation skills to carry me through to the Final, not when I’m up against the likes of JJ and Victor.’

            His frown turned into a smile, however, when he pulled his phone out of his jacket and saw a message from Yuuri.

            A meme of a cartoon hamster wearing a superhero’s mask and cape, the caption “TO THE RES-CHEW!” in bold red lettering above its furry head.

            Looking across the rink, he waved his phone at Yuuri, grinning inanely.

            “I LOVE IT!” he yelled ecstatically, clicking to forward it to his social media followers. Yuuri smiled warmly when fans began to squeal at the update, the meme making its way around the arena faster than he had anticipated, with the additional hashtags #hamsterlove and #chuuri (which made him feel a little uncomfortable, given the implication, until he saw that it was Phichit who had added it.).

            The Thai skater sent him a quick text, explaining the hashtag:

            “Better we make the joke before the press make it fake news ;P”

            He couldn’t argue with that, but he still made a note to let Victor know that there was nothing to worry about. His heart stuttered a little, the thought of Victor somehow being jealous making him anxious. He shouldn’t have worried, as he quickly saw Victor laugh as the meme made its way to his newsfeed. The Russian looked up at him with a quizzical brow and wide grin, clearly not taking it seriously. Yuuri breathed a quiet sigh of relief and briefly smiled back at Victor, the secret lovers silently taking a moment to check on each other. It felt like forever since he had last spoken to Victor properly and he felt an itch that he couldn’t scratch, an urge to message him just to see him read it, to call him just to hear his voice, to just run to him and hug him.

            If only he could be as subtle as Victor was in the last Heat, blowing him a kiss during a program without anyone realising what it really meant…

            His thoughts trailed off when Victor suddenly stood up and unzipped his jacket, heading towards the rink. Yuuri sat up straighter, almost leaning over the empty seat in front of him to get a better look at his boyfriend as he waved to the crowd on his way to the barrier gate.

            Yurio spotted the way Yuuri leaned forward and scowled at him. “What’s lit a fire under your ass all of a sudden?”

            Yuuri snapped his head in the teenager’s direction. “Huh?”

            “You’ve barely moved all day and as soon as he - ” Yurio hissed, jabbing his thumb in Victor’s direction, “stands up you’re panting!”

            “I was _not_ panting!” Yuuri tried to sound nonchalant, despite the panic that clung to his vocal chords. “I just want to see what I’ve got to beat – if I’m up after Victor this time around, don’t you think I should pay attention to his routine to try and spot any weaknesses?”

            Yurio narrowed his eyes, not completely convinced, but shrugged and turned his attention back to his phone, clearly not bothered about watching Victor’s program.

            “Victor Nikiforov finished second in the last Heat.” John reminded the audience as Yakov and Lilia joined Victor at the barrier, whispering last minute notes (not that Victor really listened). “Let’s see what the reigning champion has in store for us today.”

            “I must say,” Laura added with a slight smile, the corner of her mouth tipped upwards, “he’s the first skater to actually dress appropriately for the temperature in here.” Victor smiled politely, perhaps thinking for the first time that he was grateful that he came from such a cold country.

            His costume was a traditional Cossack outfit; a thick, long-sleeved white tunic with bright red-and-blue embroidery along the broad collar and cuffs, the front of the tunic tied with a blue cord that dangled loosely down his chest. The tunic stopped mid-thigh with a red velvet sash around the waist, over black velvet trousers. His skates had been covered with faux leather that ran up his calves to below his knees and gave the impression that he was wearing boots. He even had a faux fur hat pinned to his head.

            Yuuri hid his mouth behind his hand, slowly releasing a sigh. Victor always looked handsome (he sometimes wondered if he could wear a bin bag and still look stunning), but dressed for a snowy day in St Petersburg, the Russian skater looked positively breath-taking. And the commentators were right; he was already sporting a faint blush on his cheeks and looked snug in his velvet-and-fur outfit and looked perfectly comfortable in the centre of the rink, whereas everyone else had shivered a little before starting their programs.

            Yuuri’s mind wandered, a vision of feeling the soft warmth of those arms wrapped around his back, of being swaddled in thick furs in front of a roaring fire, of Makkachin dosing at their feet as they watched snow dance outside…

            He smiled to himself, forcing himself out of his daydream as Victor took his first position, one hand flat on his chest, the other held out at eye level, fingers half-uncurled like he was holding something delicate, a dreamy, glassy-eyed expression on his face.

            As the lilting notes of a piano drifted over the rink, Victor lifted his hand to the ceiling, a look of rapture on his face as he slowly spun on his left foot. A cello joined the piano and he pushed into a drifting rocker turn, his hands spread wide as his mind’s eye created the image of a snowy scene, his smile brightening as his fingers danced with invisible snowflakes. A violin completed the orchestra and he glided across the ice like he was floating on air, a collective sigh following him as he slowed to a point in the far corner of the rink, pointing on his toe picks like a ballerina.

            Yuuri was one of those who sighed as the lyrics began, a male tenor singing a soothing song to arouse his sleeping child on a cold December morning. But as Victor swept into a catch-foot spiral, Yuuri imagined him fussing over Makkachin, coaxing the poodle to go for his morning walk. The warm smile that made his cheeks grow rosy only helped that image and Yuuri felt his heart flutter.

            The chorus saw Victor launching immediately into a quad flip, the audience cheering at his signature move so soon into the program. As he landed, his eyes sought out Yuuri and he risked a glowing smile in his direction, his heart soaring as he saw his boyfriend’s look of awe.

            ‘I hope you’re seeing what I’m seeing.’ He thought as he dropped into a flying sit spin, his right hand held palm-up over his head as he reached for the “snowflakes”.

_Your dreams have just come true_

_And you won’t believe it’s you it’s happening to_

_You’re Lost in the Snow._

            Yuuri struggled to hold in a gasp as he realised why Victor had smiled at him at that precise moment; he was part of the scene! He saw it so vividly in his mind, it was like watching a film reel:

            He and Victor, skating hand-in-hand on a frozen lake in Russia, surrounded by white-and-silver covered trees, Makkachin leaping happily to catch snowflakes on his long tongue. It was beautiful, it was spellbinding…

            ‘It’s everything I could ever dream of.’ He thought wistfully as Victor danced over the ice, a Mazurka jump reminiscent of a move from a Cossack dance before speeding away to the far side of the rink.

            Victor’s smile never faltered as he gracefully moved through a triple toe loop – triple flip – triple toe loop combination, his whole body feeling light as the lyrics washed over him, picturing Yuuri on the ice with him, unafraid to hold his hand, to pull him with him into his layback spin. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he spun faster and faster, aching for his fantasy to come true.

            ‘Just a little longer.’ He told himself, leaping into his final quad flip. ‘Wait until the Final – then the whole world will see me walk hand-in-hand with the one I love.’

            A graceful Ina Bauer, his hand reaching for that last snowflake, had the audience on its feet, cheering and drying their eyes as he waved to them on his way to the Kiss & Cry, his own eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

            He was surprised to see Yakov and Lilia staring at him when he reached the Kiss & Cry. Yakov’s cheeks were an odd shade of red, Lilia’s eyes had turned pink.

            He cocked an eyebrow, unable to stop a lopsided smile. “Did…did my program make you two cry?”

            “Nyet!” both coaches hissed, a little too quickly. Victor noticed how neither of them could look each other in the eye.

            “Aww! I love you guys too!” he wrapped an arm around each of them and yanked them into a group hug despite their whispered, flustered protests.

            Laura sniffed and dabbed her eyes. “Wow! That was…quite an emotional routine from Victor Nikiforov! And for his own coaches to be so openly moved by his program, we can only hope that the judges share their sentiment.”

            Yuuri crossed his fingers and held his breath. Victor sat in between Yakov and Lilia, his hands covering his mouth.

            “111.3”

            “And that secures second place for Montague Corp!” John said brightly over the roar of the crowd, his voice barely audible. Not that Victor was listening as he pulled Yakov and Lilia into another hug – one that, this time, they awkwardly returned.

            “You’re going to have to really make sure your routine is perfect if you want to beat that score, Yuuri.” Celestino began to stand up, ready to accompany his last skater to the rink. He turned his head to the direction of Yuuri’s seat and frowned when he found it empty. “Yuuri? Where on earth is – what the hell is he doing?”

            Minako followed his shocked gaze and swore in hushed Japanese, breaking into a run.

            Yuuri had already got to the rink, tossing his jacket haphazardly behind him as he ran (as best he could on his skates) to the ice and leapt over the wall, not even bothering to make his way to the gate. He raced across the ice until his lungs hurt from the strain.

            “It looks like Yuuri Katsuki is eager to start his program.” Laura mused, watching as the Japanese man tore across the rink. “But why is he…oh my goodness!”

            “Hey! Nikiforov!”

            Victor started, instantly recognising that beautiful voice but not the harsh tone. He slowly turned and saw Yuuri skating straight for the Kiss & Cry, a strongminded frown wrinkling his perfect features. His own brow furrowed in confusion; they had both agreed at the beginning of the season not to talk to each other in public, in case someone figured them out.

            Though, he admitted to himself as he stepped away from his coaches to lean against the barrier, it was a little exciting to see Yuuri look so determined. He fixed his signature smile onto his face, not quite brave enough to give his boyfriend his real one.

            “You called?” he said lightly, almost flirtatiously. “It’s Yuuri, isn’t - ”

            He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. As Yuuri slid into a hockey stop, he reached forward and grabbed the cord that dangled down the front of Victor’s Cossack shirt. He gave the blue cord a sharp tug, keeping a tight grip as Victor found himself being yanked, almost being sent flying over the barrier if it weren’t for his hands flailing in the air for balance. His stomach hit the wall and he grunted in shock.

            The arena filled with a gasp and Yuuri spotted several security guards, all in black, quickly manoeuvre towards them. His heart thudded in his ears.

            “I don’t have much time,” he whispered in the shell of Victor’s ear, feeling his stomach flip as adrenaline coursed through him, “but I just had to tell you something.”

            “R-really?” Victor stuttered, a blush creeping over his cheeks. “W-what?”

            He could feel Yuuri’s lips curl up into a soft smile against his cheek, not quite touching his skin but so close it made the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end. “Don’t take your eyes off me, Victor. This is for you.”

            Victor’s eyes nearly popped out of his head and he risked a glance upwards. His breath hitched at the sparkle in Yuuri’s chocolate eyes. He had never seen him look so excited to start a program before.

            It filled him with a thrill he’d never felt before.

            Just as a burly security guard reached out a large hand to him, Yuuri pushed Victor back over the barrier and slid out of reach, an air of defiance rolling off him as he smiled coolly at the flustered Russian.

            “Just you watch me, Nikiforov!” he called over his shoulder as he moved to the centre of the ice. Even from there, he could hear the shocked murmurs from the spectators. He tried to keep his smile from spreading across his face; he had hoped to surprise Victor at the Kiss & Cry, just to get his boyfriend’s attention like he had done to him in the last Heat, but it appeared he had surprised the whole arena.

            He should have felt embarrassed, having just made a huge spectacle of himself. But he realised with a new surge of adrenaline that he didn’t; if anything, he felt elated.

            ‘If I’m going to make it to the Final, if I’m going to show my love to the world, I can’t be afraid to show how I feel. Not anymore.’ He took a cleansing breath and took his starting position, the thought of him and Victor at the Final, declaring their love on the ice, steadying him.

            “Mr Nikiforov?” Victor was startled by the security guard, still stood next to him. The huge man, all in black, was frowning at him. “Are you alright?”

            “Y-yes, yes I’m fine.” Victor quickly readjusted the front of his tunic, his fingers feeling numb and trembling. “No harm done.”

            “Disgraceful!” Lilia spat, scowling in the direction of the Japanese skater. “Such a cheap shot – clearly Team Capulet are trying to intimidate us. And in public too!”

            Yakov nodded in agreement, his eyes almost disappearing under his frown. “We should have Escales disqualify that Katsuki kid for that - ”

            “No!” Victor’s face paled as he spun to face his coaches, only just recovering in time to see them frown at him, clearly perplexed by his outburst. “I mean, why bother? Like you said, it was a cheap shot. There’s no point in making a mountain out of a molehill.”

            ‘ _And I can’t have you getting my Yuuri into trouble._ ’

            “Vitya, he put his hands on you!” Yakov looked like he was about to foam at the mouth, his eyes bulging. “That’s assault!”

            “The only assault was on my costume.” Victor retorted, readjusting the cord around his neck. “Making my tunic creased by yanking me by this is hardly GBH.”

            Lilia huffed and glowered at him. “I’m surprised you’re being so calm…but I suppose we don’t want to make a scene.” She lowered her voice as several reporters glanced over their shoulders at them, clearly eavesdropping. “Fine. Let’s get back to our box.”

            Victor hovered at the edge of the Kiss & Cry. “I’ll catch up with you.”

            Yakov grabbed his arm. “Victor, don’t be a fool!” his eyes were fixed on Minako and Celestino, who were staring daggers at the Russian skater as they took their place on the padded bench.

            “He told me to watch.” Victor shrugged Yakov’s hand away, not taking his eyes off his boyfriend, captivated by the sad, almost lost, expression on his face. “So I’m going to watch.”

            “You can watch from your seat!”

            Victor flashed a glare at his coach, jaw set in a firm line. “I’m not going anywhere!”

            “Leave him be, Yakov.” Lilia hissed. “If he wants to make a fool of himself, let him. I won’t be a part of it.”

            Yakov made a motion to argue with his ex-wife, but the frigid snarl she gave him made him reconsider. With an exasperated wave of his arms, he followed Lilia away from the Kiss & Cry, muttering in quick-fire Russian under his breath.

            Victor leaned against the barrier, fingers tightly wound together to try and hide the shiver that threatened to take over his entire body. He knew he was being stupid, downright reckless, staying this close to the Kiss & Cry when his “rival” was about to start his program, but he couldn’t force himself to move away, not even if his life depended on it.

            Yuuri had told him not to take his eyes off him. And he had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

            “Well, it seems that Team Capulet have thrown down the gauntlet.” John’s voice was strained, like he was trying to hard to make light of the tense situation.

            “That was a bold move by Yuuri Katsuki.” Laura shook her head, trying to find her notes for her next commentary. “Let’s just hope he can follow through with his routine. When he was asked about the inspiration behind it, he said it’s a personal story “about how my life changed when I came to Verona”; I’m sure Team Capulet are honoured to be the inspiration to his program.”

            Victor spotted Yuuri’s lips twitch at her commentary, and nearly gasped.

            ‘Does he mean…?’

            Yuuri’s eyes flicked in his direction, just for a heartbeat, as he lowered his head, his hands held out at his sides with one foot in front of the other, and Victor felt a spark pass through his chest. He was right!

            _“This is for you.”_

            The arena filled with a tangible silence as they waited for the song to begin. Yuuri forced his breathing to slow down, sure that his heartbeat was echoing over the ice.

            ‘I’m the only skater in this round to skate to an original piece of music,’ he thought with a steely resolve as the first twinkling notes of a piano filled the arena. He swept his hands up together, palms up, and reached up to the glass ceiling, his eyes searching for something – someone – invisible, just out of reach, ‘and there are no lyrics to hide behind or use to show my story. It has to come from me!’

            As far as Victor was concerned, the entire arena melted away. All he saw was Yuuri. Dressed in a deep purple shirt under a navy-blue jacket and dark blue trousers, his creamy complexion looked soft and warm. Iridescent rhinestones littered the shoulders and trickled down to the centre of his chest, catching the spotlights in every shade of blue, green and purple. A grey belt held the jacket in place, widening at the back and decorated with aquamarine and mauve fleur-de-lis that bloomed between his shoulder blades.

            ‘He looks like a Prince!’ he thought, his heart skipping in time with the piano as Yuuri spun and glided over the ice. ‘My very own Prince Charming!’

            The piano dropped in key and Yuuri leapt, the only sounds heard were the scratch of his skates over the ice and his sharp intake of breath as he bounded into a quad toe loop – double toe loop combination. The audience clapped accordingly, and Victor struggled to hold in a cheer when he landed perfectly.

            Yuuri clenched his jaw as he kicked his feet up behind him, dropping into a sit spin.

            ‘This is how I felt before I came to Verona; alone, weak, low. With no one who understood me. I thought joining Team Capulet would improve my career. I had no idea coming here would change my whole life!’

            His heart sang in time with the beautiful music as his story continued, his sparkling amber eyes finding Victor’s shimmering sapphires as he leapt into a quad salchow.

            Victor gripped his hands tighter together until his knuckles turned white. In that moment, his eyes locked with Yuuri’s and he remembered that night. How their eyes connected in that courtyard, the cool night air kissing his cheeks as he pulled away his mask. The look of awe on Yuuri’s face was mirrored right there on the ice.

            His vision almost blurred with unshed tears as he watched their love story being played out for the whole world to see, yet he was the only one who really knew it.

            A camel spin…he remembered their first training session, how they had skated together for the first time, had laughed until they both cried, when Yuuri had first called him his boyfriend.

            A lunge into an outside spread eagle…he saw the pain in Yuuri’s eyes when he had told him what had happened to him all those years ago. He looked so graceful, so serene, it almost hurt to watch him, yet Victor couldn’t tear his eyes away. Every slope of his arms, every arch of his legs were perfect, like the music was flowing from deep inside him, created just for this one moment. Created just for the two of them.

            A beguiling Ina Bauer…Yuuri felt himself reaching out for Victor, wanting nothing more than to show him that he loved him more than anything in the world. That he would always stay by his side. He felt tears prick at his eyes and quickly blinked them away as he jumped into a triple axel, the music lifting him off the ice.

            He remembered running along that pebble beach with Makkachin, hearing Victor laugh next to him. He remembered rolling around on that hilltop with the poodle as he executed a triple flip, the audience beginning to cheer louder for him as it looked like he was going to perform a perfect routine.

            ‘I still need to do something,’ he mused as he moved into his step sequence, ‘something that will set me apart from JJ and Victor. Something no one would ever think I could do..’

            “Next up is a triple axel – single loop – triple salchow combination,” Laura breathed through her commentary, her eyes on stalks as Yuuri tucked his hands in to his chest. “Oh no! It looks like he over rotated on that last jump! He was doing so well…”

            Yuuri blotted her commentary out, shrugging off the nerves that threatened to creep in when he made the mistake. He couldn’t afford to let his anxiety get the better of him. His final combination – a triple lutz – triple toe loop – was a lot better, and he saw the judges scribble away furiously.

            ‘They think they know me. The judges, my coaches, even Victor.’ His heart pounded in his ears as he moved into his step sequence, spinning and arching in graceful serpentine movements. ‘I can be more than they expect. I can become stronger. I _will_ become stronger! I can surpass Victor’s wildest imagination!’

            The arena became a blur as he spun faster and faster. He knew he should be feeling tired by this point, but if anything he felt like he could keep skating forever. He’d never felt so confident or happy during a program before.

            ‘That’s because I finally have someone to skate for.’ He realised, a single tear trickling down his cheek.

            Victor’s throat felt tight and he struggled to breathe. If he thought he knew what love was, Yuuri’s program proved him wrong. He felt more love for that beautiful man than he ever had before. He wanted nothing more than to watch this performance for the rest of his life.

            “Up next is Yuuri’s last jump, a quadruple toe loop.” John took over the commentary, gripping his cue card so tight the paper shook in his hand.

            Yuuri’s face suddenly lit up with a broad smile as he prepared to jump.

            ‘Watch this, Victor!’

            Victor’s jaw hit the floor. The audience began to scream in shock. Minako and Celestino leapt to their feet in the Kiss & Cry and yelled Yuuri’s name in disbelief. There wasn’t a single person in the whole arena who could have predicted that –

            “Oh my god!” Laura’s voice suddenly boomed over the sound system. “He changed the jump to a quad flip – the signature move of his rival, Victor Nikiforov! If this isn’t a direct challenge to Montague Corp, then I don’t know what it is!”

            “And not even Victor has ever executed a quad flip so late on in a program!” John sounded utterly stunned as Yuuri spun from a camel down into a sit spin. “It looks like the reigning champion needs to watch his back, folks. This is one skater who just keeps on surprising us!”

            As Yuuri stretched himself up into a corkscrew spin, he slowed to a halt and stood in the centre of the ice again, his left leg bent gracefully behind his right (a throwback to his ballet classes with Minako). Resting his right hand over his heart, he turned his head to the side and reached out his left hand, beautifully pointing towards the Kiss & Cry.

            At least, he was supposed to point to the Kiss & Cry, towards Minako and Celestino, his program finishing with a mark of respect to his coaches. Instead, he had slightly under-turned and found himself staring straight into Victor’s eyes, his hand reaching out deftly to his lover.

            “He’s challenging Victor again?” Minako shook her head, hands resting on her hips. “What is he playing at today?”

            “I’m not sure, but he’s certainly whipping the crowd into a frenzy.” Celestino chuckled, glancing around at the screaming audience as chants of Yuuri’s name began to climb to the glass ceiling. “He seems a lot more confident than usual today. Let’s hope he keeps it up for the rest of the competition.”

            Yuuri stood frozen in the spot, his cheeks burning and his lungs wheezing. He couldn’t look away from Victor, who was leaning against the barrier with his head in his hands.

            ‘Is he…is he crying? Is he mad at me for showing him up in front of everyone? I need to know!’ his mind raced as he pushed himself towards the Kiss & Cry, forcing himself to smile at Minako and Celestino, who began waving over to him from the padded bench. At least they looked happy with his routine.

            He didn’t see Victor running back to the Kiss & Cry until it was too late. He didn’t notice the flash of silver hair or crystal-blue eyes until they shoved Celestino out of the way. He didn’t see the look of pure love on his boyfriend’s face until it was millimetres from his own.

            A sudden weight knocked him flying backwards and, for a moment, he wondered what on earth was going on. When his brain caught up with his body, it nearly exploded.

            Time slowed almost to a halt as Victor closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around him. He stared wide-eyed up at the ceiling as he fell back onto the ice, his chest pressed against Victor’s as the Russian pulled him closer, a hand sliding through his sweat-soaked hair to cushion him as they fell.

            For the briefest, and longest, of moments, Yuuri felt Victor’s lips press against his.

            The arena became filled with noise, from gasps of shock to roars of outrage as the two men landed on the ice. But neither Yuuri nor Victor heard any of it; Victor was too happy to care that people saw him embrace his boyfriend, Yuuri was too shell-shocked to fathom what was going on.

            “I wanted to surprise you more than you surprised me. This was the only thing I could think of.” Yuuri heard Victor’s voice, thick and raw with adoration, next to his ear and he almost sank into his arms.

            “Well, it worked!” he cheekily replied, turning his head slightly to get a better look at the beautiful heart-shaped smile that only he knew about.

            Only the smile never appeared. A flash from a camera and both skaters went rigid with terror.

            _Shit!_

            Victor stared around the arena like a deer in the headlights. He had gone too far! He kissed Yuuri. In front of everyone. How on earth were they going to lie their way out of this?

            Yuuri looked over Victor’s shoulder and saw Celestino fighting to keep a security guard from going onto the ice, his tanned face twisted in anxiety. Minako was screaming profanities at Yakov, who was running at top speed back to the Kiss & Cry, his face turning purple as he yelled back at her.

            Thinking on his feet, Yuuri grabbed the front of Victor’s tunic again. “Follow my lead.” He whispered, his voice barely leaving his mouth.

            “What do you - ”

            Yuuri pushed Victor backwards with such force it sent the taller man flying onto his backside. Victor blinked owlishly at Yuuri, who stood up wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, scowling at him.

            “If you think a stupid stunt like that is going to stop me from winning the gold medal, you must be crazy!” Yuuri yelled at the top of his voice, trying to sound as angry as he could. “Or did you really think kissing me would distract me?”

            Victor caught on just as Yakov and Celestino began to step onto the ice, a lot slower and unsteady in shoes than on skates. He rose to his feet with a sneer, sweeping his fringe from his eyes. “Hah!” he scoffed. “I was just trying to knock you on your ass – it was _you_ that kissed me!”

            “Liar!” Yuuri clenched his fists as Celestino suddenly stepped in front of him.

            “That’s enough!” the Italian coach hissed, glaring over his shoulder at Victor as he gripped Yuuri’s shoulders. “Both of you! Yakov, keep your skater away from Yuuri or I’ll have him disqualified!”

            Yakov snarled at Celestino. “Likewise, Cialdini!”

            As Victor was led away, Yakov physically pushing him all the way back to Montague Corp’s box, he could still feel his lips tingling from their kiss. It was like his whole body had been electrified. It was worth the deafening screams from his coaches and the look of disbelief from his teammates. Hell, he thought it was worth becoming public enemy number one if it meant he got to kiss Yuuri after the best performance of his life.

            “Yuuri, what the hell is going on with you today?” Minako screeched as Celestino unceremoniously dumped him on the bench in the Kiss & Cry. “First you grab Victor, then you almost get into a punch-up with him! What is it about that guy that’s got you so riled up?”

            Yuuri wasn’t listening. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer and it was making his body quake. He couldn’t breathe.

            “Shit. I think he’s having a panic attack!” Minako’s expression immediately softened and she wrapped an arm around his shoulder, whispering soothing words in his ear, like she always did. Only Yuuri didn’t really hear them.

            Because it wasn’t a panic attack. He wasn’t even sure what it was. It was the opposite of panic. Was it possible to have a happy attack? Was that the right word for it?

            He barely registered his score, that had been flashing onscreen since before Victor kissed him.

            “110.2”

            “Yuuri. Yuuri, can you hear me?” Minako whispered, a fond smile stretching her mouth and dimpling her cheeks. “You’re fourth. Fourth! I’m so proud of you – even if you are a little crazy today.”

            He slowly blinked out of his haze and smiled at her, earning another hug from his coach. Over her shoulder, he sought out Victor and was rewarded by the sight of him blushing and grinning from his seat.

            He was in fourth place. He was in a solid position. If it all went well, he would be through to the next Heat with Victor. He was one step closer to achieving his dream. Their dream.

            He dragged his tongue over his lips as Minako released him, smirking hotly at his boyfriend. Something pitched in the lowest part of his gut when he saw Victor suck his lower lip between his teeth, grinning wickedly back at him.

            They were playing a dangerous game. They both knew it. They would probably regret it. But, at that moment, neither of them cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *collapses with an ice pack* I forgot how difficult writing skating was!
> 
> So, on that note, the next chapter will take place _the day after_ the Second Round, so there won't be any skating. I had already drafted my story this way months ago, but now I'm really glad that I did. 
> 
> A humungous thank you to my best friend and long-suffering beta, [IncandescentAntelope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope) for reading and squealing along with me. I can't imagine doing this story without you now, IA. Arigato <3
> 
> I'm still going to keep up with my monthly updates, so hopefully I'll see you all on **THURSDAY 28TH MARCH** (which, by the way, is three days after my birthday...just saying...lol)
> 
> Comment, say hi, drop me a line. I live in the comment thread :)
> 
> xXxXx


	24. If You Be Not Of Montague Corp, Come And Crush An Alien Platoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Heat is over and Team Capulet are relaxing. 
> 
> But who got through to the Quarter Finals? Time to find out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Didn't March go by so fast?? 
> 
> Hope you like this filler chapter :) 
> 
> If you want, you can listen to songs 32-40 of my [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEnkKaNTEz3S7P8JcDQHWNF1O2nrxlSCa), although you don't actually see any skating this time. Lol.
> 
> Huge thanks to the beautiful [Incandescent Antelope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope) for beta-ing this chapter. Love you, babes <3
> 
> ENJOY!!! XXXX

_"…and although both Montague Corp and Team Capulet officials deny that anything untoward happened between Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki after Katsuki’s routine the other day, it has been speculated that this could have been a publicity stunt, deliberately staged by one of the teams to add fuel to the ongoing feud between the Big Two. Neither Nikiforov or Katsuki have commented on the so-called kiss, other than to say that they hope the fans continue to support them and enjoy the rest of the World Grand Prix._

_Now, let’s go over to Laura and John for the highlight’s of yesterday’s Second Stage…”_

“Turn it off!” Michele groaned, slumping further into the armchair, scraping his fingers over his scalp with a sigh. “I don’t need reminding of my epic failure.”

            Yuuko sighed as she changed channels, her enormous eyes shining softly at the Italian young man. “It wasn’t an epic failure, Mikey. Don’t be so melodramatic.”

            “I’m the only skater to not get through to the Quarter Finals.” He pouted as Sara propped herself against the arm of the chair, folding her long legs under herself as she sat on the floor.

            “That Popovich guy didn’t get through either.” Takeshi pointed out as he fiddled with several tangled-up cables, setting up his games console under the television. “So Montague Corp lost another skater. So what if you’re the first from our team to get knocked out? Someone had to be!”

            Michele glowered at the burly Japanese man but didn’t say anything; the day before was a day he’d rather forget.

            His routine to the song “Wherever You Will Go”, supposed to be a poignant message to Sara, had only scored 100.2, even less than his first routine, meaning his total score for the Second Heat had been 203.8, the lowest score for Team Capulet and therefore meant he was eliminated.

            His only consolation was that Georgi’s program to the classical piece “Carabosse” had scored 102.4, making the Russian’s total score exactly 200, meaning he was bottom of the leader board.

            Michele hadn’t been sure at the time, but he could have sworn that Georgi had actually screamed during his program. He had been too distracted by his ridiculous makeup again to pay much attention, although he had been relieved when Georgi had stumbled out of a quad salchow and had struggled to recover afterwards.

            ‘Clearly he was too focused on his musicality rather than his technique.’ He had scoffed at the time.

            “Come on, Mikey.” Sara said brightly, patting his knee. “Let’s forget about it – look, Yuuko ordered double pepperoni pizza, your favourite!”

            Michele smiled weakly, accepting the hot slice of pizza from his sister. Now that the Second Heat was over, and the Quarter Finals not due to start for another three weeks, Celestino and Minako had agreed that another weekend off was called for; it was clear that Michele’s exit from the competition had knocked some of the wind out of the team’s sails and some R-and-R was more important than jumping straight into practise.

            So Michele and Sara had set up camp in Yuuko and Takeshi’s hotel room, scattering pillows and cushions and pulling the padded armchairs in front of the television, ready for a day of mindless video games and junk food. Several pizza boxes were stacked on the glass coffee table, ready for everyone to dive into once they’d all arrived.

            “Aren’t the others coming?” Takeshi asked as he finally got the console set up, passing a wireless controller to Michele and Sara. “This game is better when there’s more players.”

            Yuuko double-checked her phone for replies to her group message. “Yurio’s on his way and it looks like Yuuri’s still with Minako. Don’t worry, Taka, you won’t have to wait too long to get your butt whooped.”

            Takeshi snorted. “You beat me once, honey. Are you ever going to let that drop?”

            “Sure – when you beat my record!”

            Michele laughed quietly and Sara smiled fondly at Yuuko. It looked like their plan to distract her big brother was going to work. She leaned a little closer to his knee on the pretence of setting up for the game, but Michele knew better. She was clearly worried about him, and his twin had always been extra tentative when she fretted. He nudged her shoulder with his knee and gave her a tiny grateful smile, relaxing when she smiled silently back at him.

            The quiet was disrupted by what sounded like someone kicking the door. Yuuko rolled her eyes with a huffed laugh.

            “It’s open, Yurio!” she called, opening another pizza box. “There’s no need to break the door down!”

            “If I’d wanted to kick the door down I’d have kicked harder, smartass!”

            Yuuko turned to rebuke the teenager but the words died on her lips, coming out as a surprised gasp instead.

            Yurio stood in the doorway, his hands in the deep pockets of his tiger-print hoodie and his usual sulky scowl in place. But what surprised Yuuko the most was that he wasn’t alone.

            Otabek leaned against the door, one hand in his khaki-coloured jeans pocket, the other unwinding his pale green scarf from around his neck. The Kazakhstani nodded at her in greeting, but he stayed slightly behind Yurio, almost as if somehow he could hide behind the skinny teenager. His mouth drew into a tight line when Michele and Sara turned to stare at him, wide-eyed and frowning.

            Yurio noticed and glared at his teammates. “Beka’s hanging out with us today. Anyone got a problem with that?”

            Sara nearly dropped her controller. “ _Beka?_ Oh my god, are you giving each other nicknames now?” she squeaked with a cheek-splitting grin. “That’s so cute!”

            Yurio’s cheeks flushed and he balked. “It’s not fucking cute! I just can’t be assed saying ‘Otabek’ all the time! Jeez, why do you always have to turn everything into a goddamned soap opera?”

            Otabek shrugged off his jacket, laying in on the double bed along with everyone else’s. “I thought it was cute when you first called me that.”

            Yurio spun his head so fast, Yuuko thought his neck might actually snap. “You _what_?!”

            The Kazakhstani snorted. “Of course I didn’t, but you should see the look on your face!”

            The room dissolved into raucous laughter as Yurio proceeded to bash Otabek with a pillow, cursing at the top of his voice with a bright red face. Otabek beamed as he held an arm over his head, feigning injury every time the pillow connected with him.

            Yuuko and Takeshi shared a knowing smile as the younger skaters began talking animatedly, all tension and rivalry melting away as Otabek commandeered the other armchair, Yurio settling on the floor between his chair and Sara. They had been worried that, given the fact that all the Independent skaters made it through to the Quarter Finals, Michele might have gone back to sulking. But it seemed that they had been worried for nothing, as the Italian lad smiled at Otabek, passing him a can of Coke.

            Takeshi handed out more wireless controllers. “I hope you know how to kick alien butt.” He warned the olive-skinned boy with a lopsided grin. “I’m not having you dragging my score down if you keep killing me instead.”

            Otabek grinned slyly back at the older man. “See, now I’m just going to kill you out of spite. Well, maybe the first time anyway. After that, you just need to stay out of my line of fire.”

            Sara and Yuuko both “oooh”-ed at the same time, the women revelling in the scoffing laughter coming from Takeshi. “You’re on, kid!”

            “Oh dear.” Yuuko chuckled with a shake of her head. “Try and remember it’s only a game, boys.”

            Takeshi plonked himself on the edge of their bed as the opening credits began, the backstory of a war-torn galaxy playing out on the screen. “This isn’t a game, Yuuko – it’s war!”

            Michele and Yurio cheered in unison, quickly selecting their avatars. Otabek hummed quietly, his eyes growing steely and focused as his character selected his weapon. Sara giggled, rolling her eyes at Yuuko.

            “You’d better take this,” the Italian girl said quickly, tossing a controller over her shoulder to Yuuko, who just about managed to catch it before it landed on her foot, “I am not being the only girl in this war zone!”

            The room soon filled with the sounds of explosions and screams of anguish as the “team” tore through the simulated battle field, shouting orders at each other to “jump out of the way!”, “use your plasma bomb!” and “hit the red button three times – hurry!”. Between laughing when one of their avatars was killed (usually in a very graphic, gory manner) and passing slices of pizza between each other, no one really noticed how the afternoon quickly wore on into early evening.

            It was only when Yuuko noticed the security light outside the window flicker on that she realised how dark the room was getting. Setting her controller to one side, she drew the curtains and flicked the overhead light on. Yurio covered his eyes and hissed dramatically.

            “My eyes! For god’s sake, warn me before you do that next time!”

            The others began stretching and groaning, aches in their joints setting in from sitting in front of the television for so long. Yuuko flipped open another pizza box and handed out Coke cans as they took a break from the game.

            “So,” Sara mumbled, her mouth full of cheese and tomato and a flutter of her long lashes, “Beka – can I call you Beka?”

            “No, you fucking cannot!” Yurio growled, tearing his slice of Hawaiian between his teeth. Otabek nudged the teenager with his foot and shrugged at Sara, clearly more interested in the food than Sara’s attempt at flirting.

            Sara gulped thickly and backtracked. “O-Otabek, can I ask you something? Why’d you choose “Smooth Criminal” for your routine yesterday? I mean, wasn’t the theme of this Heat supposed to be about representing yourself?”

            Yurio scowled at her, filling his cheeks with pizza so as not to yell at her again. The nudge Otabek gave him with his foot made him keep quiet. He kind of liked how he had some kind of secret code with the older lad, how the two of them could have whole conversations with nods of their heads or nudges or shrugs.

            But that didn’t stop him from scowling at Sara for daring to question his new friend’s program. He had thought that Otabek, dressed in a crisp, white suit with black shirt and shimmering silver tie, looked like a gangster from a movie. And the teenager had thought he looked pretty damned awesome!

            Otabek shrugged at Sara, fiddling with the setting for his avatar as he ate. “Most people seem to think that because I’m an Independent that I have some kind of secret to keep from the world. And the press seem to enjoy making me out to be some kind of shady character just because I’m a Kazakh. So, why not play on that?”

            Michele nodded, impressed with his thinking. “Nice! Playing on stereotypes is an easy tactic to impress the judges – clearly better than going for subtlety.”

            Otabek gave him a sympathetic glance. “The judges seem to forget that, when we’re on the ice, we should be scored on our performance. I spent my entire Junior career getting marked down because someone thought I had some kind of criminal background just because I didn’t want to affiliate with a major team at such a young age. Being part of a team doesn’t necessarily mean I’m going to win, as you yourself know. There’s no one right path, but the judges either choose to ignore that or just don’t care. So, if it means I get to the Final, I’ll play their game for a while longer.”

            Yurio wasn’t aware that his mouth was hanging open until Sara leaned over and snapped it closed with a finger to his chin. He pushed her hand away with a whispered swear word, tucking his face behind his blonde hair. The stupid cow smirked at him with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

            “Well,” Yurio huffed, trying to sound nonchalant despite his face being a slight shade of beetroot, “they gave you ‘105.9’, so you must be right.”

            Otabek gave his friend a slight smile. He had finished the Heat in fifth place thanks to his total score of 210.1 and had breathed a sigh of relief that he had been safe from elimination. He had come to Verona with a lot of high expectations back home and didn’t want to be the first Independent to leave the competition.

            “And besides,” the blonde teenager continued with a crooked smirk, “you’d probably make a cool gangster if your program was anything to go by. I mean, that triple salchow-double toe loop-triple flip combination right as that beat kicked in - ”

            Michele snorted derisively, giving his teammate a snide sideways glance. “Oh please! You’re not exactly the spokesperson for all things cool!”

            Yurio glared at the taller lad, ignoring how Sara was holding her hand out to stop him from launching himself at her brother. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            Michele barked a cold laugh. “All your program did was confirm your love of cats!”

            Yurio jumped to his feet and clenched his fists. “Are you fucking kidding me? “Roar” was about me being a champion – it even said so in the lyrics, you dumbass!”

            “All I saw was a kid dressed like a leopard prancing around to a cheesy pop song.” Michele scoffed, his bitterness from being eliminated finally finding an outlet. “And the fact that the judges gave you a lower score than what they did for “Teenage Dirtbag” only shows that even they thought it was crap!”

            “Oh yeah?” Yurio snapped. “Well even with a score of 105.9, I still beat you! I came in fourth overall, I was the highest scoring skater for the team with a total of 212.4! Where did you rank again? Oh yeah, second from the bottom! So don’t give me shit for my program, you son of a - ”

            “Dude, your character just got blown up.”

            Yurio’s green eyes suddenly snapped towards the television at the almost-bored tone of Otabek’s voice, just in time to see his avatar’s brains smear down the screen.

            “Baqitti!” he swore out loud, plopping back down onto the floor and grabbing his controller, furiously hitting the reset button.

            Yuuko shot Otabek a dark look, pursing her lips and raising a thin eyebrow with her arms folded. “That sounded almost like a Kazakh swear word.” She muttered, watching him visibly shrink under her gaze, keeping his eyes locked on the television. “I wonder where he learned that from.”

            ‘At least he has the decency to be embarrassed.’ She thought as a blush crept up on his cheeks, the faintest hint of pink rushing to the surface. Rolling her eyes, she settled down on the edge of the bed next to Takeshi, glancing between Yurio and Otabek for a moment. It was unusual for Yurio to just suddenly snap out of one of his verbal tirades, especially mid-flow. She couldn’t quite tell if it was simply the idea of losing a game, or the Kazakhstani’s calming influence, that had caused the switch to flip, but nevertheless it was a welcome change to have someone else calm the teenager down.

            Sara poked Michele in the ribs with her elbow, widening her lilac eyes at him with a furious nod of her head in Yurio’s direction. After a few seconds of miming to each other, the older twin relented with a groan.

            “Alright, fine! Yurio, I’m sorry.” He pouted at his sister, who glared at him again. “I didn’t mean it.”

            “Whatever.” Yurio shrugged, deliberately keeping his eyes on the game.

            Takeshi chuckled quietly, resetting the game. “There. Now that we’ve put the handbags away, shall we get back to saving the universe?”

            The group fell into a comfortable silence as the game started again. Yuuko began tidying away the empty pizza boxes and numerous empty Coke cans with a shake of her head.

            “You guys are really going to have to crank up your workouts on Monday if any of you stand a chance in the Quarter Finals.” She teased, tossing the boxes into a plastic bin bag.

            Michele sighed dramatically. “Who has to work out? I can spend the rest of the Grand Prix getting fat on pizza and pasta like a real Italian. Lucky me!”

            “Oh no you don’t!” Sara exclaimed, snatching his half-eaten slice from his hand. “You’re going to keep up with your exercises and help Yurio and Yuuri train for the next Heat! I’m not having you turning into Nonno at your age!”

            Michele smiled weakly, mildly amused at his sister’s scolding. He snatched his pizza back and made a big show of taking a big bite, drawing out an exaggerated “mmm!” in her face.

            “That’s it, Mikey.” Takeshi chortled. “Enjoy your pizza while you can – once Minako and Celestino get their hands on you lot on Monday you’re all going to be wishing you’d never heard of deep pan pepperoni.”

            “I’m surprised they gave you guys the weekend off again.” Otabek mused, sipping on his drink. “I heard that Montague Corp have doubled their training time ahead of the next stage of the competition. Don’t you think you should be taking the Grand Prix a bit more…I don’t know, seriously?”

            Yurio smirked. “They’re just scared shitless that we’re going to kick their asses. Besides, you’re hanging out with us, so you’re not exactly worried, right?”

            Otabek’s mouth twitched in the corner. “Yeah, _today_ I’m with you guys. But _tomorrow_ I’ll be hitting the gym and then my practise rink. I’m not going to go easy on you just because we’re friends. I came to win too, you know.”

            “And don’t underestimate Montague Corp.” Takeshi said sagely. “Yakov and Lilia may be brutal with their training methods, but they get results. Just look at how many gold medals Victor Nikiforov’s won over the years. Just because Celestino and Minako choose to let you take it easy for a couple of days doesn’t mean you should get complacent.”

            Yurio and Sara shared an uneasy look, dropping their pizza back in the box, appetites suddenly vanishing. They had noticed the notifications on social media from Montague Corp’s PR team, raving about how hard the team was practising ready for the Quarter Finals, and had laughed at the photos of Chris and Victor posing in front of their practise rink with well-rehearsed smiles on their faces. Now they felt like they were the ones being mocked for taking a couple of days off again.

            As if on cue, Sara’s phone pinged with a notification. Glancing at the screen, she made a derisive noise when Chris’ smug face appeared, flushed and shiny with perspiration.

“Hot and sweaty…and that’s just me! #newprogram”

            “Why do you think Chris keeps getting away with such ridiculous programs?” she asked, tucking her phone back in her pocket before Yurio had a chance to see the arrogant wink in those green eyes. “I mean, look at what happened yesterday!”

            Yurio grimaced. “Don’t fucking remind me!” he gagged, his expression growing dark at the memory of how Chris’ unbelievably lewd program to another innuendo-laden song called “Intoxicated”, combined with an obscenely skin-tight blue-and-black catsuit with a purple sash criss-crossing his chest, had somehow managed to get a score of 109.8 – almost five points more than his own! “That’s twice that shithead’s finished in third place! What the fuck has he got that I haven’t?!”

            “Sex appeal.” Sara said a little too quickly, making Michele and Yurio snarl at her. “Oh come on, I’m not taking sides! I’m just stating the obvious – he knows he’s got a strong fanbase because of his sexy routines, even if it is starting to look a little desperate at this stage.”

            Yuuko patted Yurio’s shoulder lightly. “Exactly. Chris has now performed four programs, all with a very similar theme – he’s a one-trick pony! So if you keep changing your techniques to show off all of your abilities and strengths, you’ll soon have him eating your dust.”

            Yurio’s cheeks blushed a soft pink at her gentle smile; he always felt a little awkward when she was like this with him, not quite a big sister, not quite a mother figure, but a bit more than just a friend. He smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching, and nodded to her.

            “Pfft!” Michele scoffed, sinking into his armchair, tucking his hand under his chin. “It’s not Chris I’d be worried about – JJ and Victor are the ones to beat. Fat chance of that!”

            The mood in the room took a very sombre turn after that. Yurio threw down his controller in another hissy fit, muttering under his breath. Otabek sighed and ran his hand through his dark hair, scratching at the nape of his neck. Even Yuuko and Takeshi couldn’t think of anything uplifting to say, instead opting to silently pack the video game away.

            JJ’s program to an original song – that he actually recorded himself! – called “The Theme of King JJ” had made the whole arena shake when the crowd began to scream and chant along with the chorus. And his total score of exactly 228 looked like it would set a new record, much to everyone’s dismay when he struck his signature ‘JJ-style’ pose at the Kiss & Cry.

            That was until Victor had taken to the ice. Dressed in a black tuxedo, his routine to “From Russia, With Love” had made every woman in the arena swoon (even Yuuko and Sara had sighed dreamily as he spun gracefully, not that they would ever dream of admitting it). Having been dubbed “double oh-heaven” by Laura in the commentator’s box – something that made Yurio physically retch – Victor’s total score for the Second Heat was 231, meaning this time he took the gold medal, leaving the Canadian Independent to settle for silver.

            Yurio paced to the window and peeked behind the curtain, leaning against the wall with a scowl as he watched the streetlights flicker on. Thinking about beating Chris had been enough to make the teenager agitated, but the mention of Victor’s name really made his blood boil.

            ‘First that smug old geezer embarrassed Yuuri in the First Heat,’ he thought with gritted teeth, remembering the way Yuuri had blushed bright red when Victor blew that stupid kiss at him, ‘then he publicly assaulted him on the ice!’

            “That bastard’s going the right way for a broken jaw!” he hissed under his breath, his fist clenching so tight his nails dug into his palm.

            Thankfully no one else seemed to hear the teenager’s threat as Yuuko turned the television back on. The news was showing a highlight reel from the day before, focusing on Phichit’s program.

            “What do you make of him?” Takeshi asked Otabek with a cocked head. “You guys all train together at the Independents’ rink, right?”

            The Kazakhstani nodded. “Phichit works hard. And he’s a pretty decent guy – I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say anything bad about anyone, not even JJ. Hey, is any of the gossip about him and Yuuri true?”

            Yuuko giggled. “You must be joking! Phichit and Yuuri? Nah, sorry to disappoint you, but they really are just friends.”

            ‘Besides,’ she thought to herself with a tiny, knowing smile, ‘Yuuri already has a secret someone. I wonder if _he’s_ the reason he’s been so focused lately…’

            Otabek shrugged. “I only asked because Phichit keeps posting stuff about it online. Something about “keeping the joke going” or whatever. Anyway, he’s got a good technique, he just needs to fine tune it a little.”

            Takeshi hummed in agreement, tapping a pudgy finger against his chin. “I know what you mean. His program to that song from his favourite movie – what was it called again?”

            “Which?” Yuuko asked over her shoulder, watching the highlights as Phichit jumped into a triple salchow, his red-and-gold costume glittering under the spotlights. “The song or the movie?”

            “The song.”

            “Oh, “Shall We Skate?”.” The Japanese woman said with a bright smile. “I love that movie too. Did you hear how it was that movie that inspired him to take up skating? That’s so adorable!”

            Takeshi chuckled. “Adorable’s only going to carry him so far in this competition. I mean, that Minami kid played the ‘cute’ card and that only got him as far as the First Heat! I think Otabek’s on the right track, the kid might have gotten more than 100.5 if he’d had help from a proper coach for his program.”

            Yuuko smirked at her husband. “Are you fishing for a new skater?” she teased. “I didn’t realise it was part of your job description.”

            Takeshi guffawed. “No harm in asking around, is there? You can’t expect Celestino and Minako to do all the hard work. Besides, you wouldn’t be complaining if I got a finder’s fee for a new skater.”

            Yuuko rolled her eyes at him. “Yes dear, that’s how it works.”

            Yurio paced back across the room, his mouth pinched thoughtfully as he sat back down next to Otabek. “Would you ever consider joining Team Capulet? I mean,” he spluttered when his friend’s eyes widened a little at him, “Minako’s a bit of a cow sometimes, but Celestino’s kind of cool, I guess. I-I’m sure they’d like it if you joined the team after the Grand Prix’s over.”

            Otabek blinked wide-eyed at the babbling blonde for a few moments before giving him a small smile, his shoulders slouching back against the padded back of the armchair. “I haven’t really thought about what I’m doing after the Grand Prix. To be honest, I’m kind of happy as an Independent for now; no one tries to change me or get me to fit into a box. I’m my own person and I like showing that in my skating.”

            Yurio nodded quickly, his eyes growing large and almost sparkly as the older lad talked so casually about his career.

            _‘Seriously, why is this guy so freakin’ awesome?!’_

Sara spotted the awestruck expression on Yurio’s face and giggled maniacally.

            “Yurio and Otabek, sitting in a tree,” she began to chant, waggling her fingers in time with her childish tune, “K-I-S- _mmmph!_ ”

            Her teasing was cut short by a pillow to the face, flung by a red-faced, potty-mouthed Russian.

            “Shut your fucking mouth right now, you fucking cow!” Yurio shrieked, pummelling her with a soft pillow as she shrieked with laughter.

            “Hey!” Michele yelled, trying to sound annoyed despite the wide grin. “Leave my sister alone!” He grabbed a square cushion from behind his back and threw it at Yurio, it hitting him square on the shoulder. The teenager spun in his direction, his face flushed but his snarl melting a little into a challenging smirk.

            “Oh, you want a piece of me, do you? Alright, Crispino – take this!”

            He leapt into the air, waving his pillow above his head with a war cry. Michele just had enough time to scramble out of the armchair and grab another cushion before the soft pillow connected with his cheek. Laughing, he swung his cushion wildly, trying to block Yurio’s attack.

            Sara batted at the teenager’s back with another pillow. “Get ‘im, Mikey!” she yelled, squeaking when someone bopped her arm with a cushion. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Otabek standing next to her, shooting her a crooked smile.

            “What? Two against one isn’t a fair fight.” He smirked.

            The Italian girl hooted a laugh. “Oh, but two boys against one girl is fair?”

            “Hah!” Yurio scoffed. “Mikey hits like a girl, so it is fair!”

            Michele snorted. “At least I don’t look like a girl, blondie!”

            “Take that back, asshole!”

            “Make me, brat!”

            “You’re on!”

            The shrieking and yelling came to an abrupt halt when someone at the door cleared their throat. Loudly.

            Minako stood in the doorway, her hand still on the handle, gawping at them all with a tic making her left eye twitch. Yuuri hovered in the hallway behind her, trying to look over her shoulder to find out why she hadn’t moved.

            “Seriously?” she spat, staring at each of the skaters in turn as they bashfully straightened up, fiddling with the pillows in their hands. “We give you a weekend to recharge and this is how you spend it – acting like children?”

            “Well, I’m fifteen so technically I’m still a child - ” Yurio muttered into his pillow as he hugged it to his chin.

            “Don’t give me that, Plisetsky!” Minako snapped, making the teenager flinch away from her. “You’ve spent the entire season wanting to be treated like an adult, so don’t even try to play the ‘kid’ card now.”

            Yuuko held her hands up apologetically, smiling nervously at the other Japanese woman. “Take it easy, Minako. They’re just blowing off steam. Trust me, it was long overdue.”

            Minako huffed at her. “Still, a pillow fight? What if one of them got hurt? Then what? We’ve only got Yuuri and Yurio left in the men’s division – we can’t afford any accidents. And as for you,” she locked on Otabek, who quickly took a step back with a nervous gulp, “don’t think that because you’re not part of the team that means I’ll go easy on you. All of you – tidy up this mess!” she threw her hands wide, gesturing at the scattered pizza boxes and spilt drinks; no one had realised the mess they’d made when their pillow fight had gotten underway.

            Yuuri unzipped his team jacket and hooked it next to the door, stooping to gather up some of the Coke cans, Michele and Sara gathered the pizza boxes whilst Otabek got more bin bags and Yurio got a sponge to clean up the fizzy drink stains on the carpet.

            “Thank you, _Sir Yuuri_!” Sara drawled with a cheeky grin as he helped her with the boxes, making the others snigger as a blush crawled up his neck to his cheeks.

            He rolled his eyes, trying his best to ignore the teasing looks he was getting from his teammates. He should have figured they were going to say something.

            He’d had high hopes for his second routine the day before. Dressed in a shimmering silver costume, his shoulders and chest covered by grey leather patches, he had imagined himself as a Knight in Shining Armour.

            Victor’s Knight in Shining Armour.

            His routine to “The Glory of Love” was supposed to be a secret message to his boyfriend; that no matter what, he would stay by Victor’s side, that he would be strong for him, that he would do whatever it took to prove his love to him.

            However, his attempt to come across as masculine had failed. Dramatically, if the feedback from the commentators was anything to go by.

            “I guess Yuuri Katsuki chose this song because of the movie, ‘The Karate Kid’?” John had mused, clearly confused by the choice of song. “Perhaps he relates to the protagonist?”

            Laura had hummed thoughtfully, tapping her pen next to her cheek. “It certainly seems a little late in the game for the newcomer to Team Capulet to try and go for the cute vote.”

            That comment had floored him. _Cute? Cute?!_ He hadn’t been going for that at all! He was Victor’s strong hero – surely that was obvious, at least to him. Right?

            Wrong.

            That night, when they had met outside the arena for the first time in nearly a week, Victor had flung his arms around his neck and smothered his face with kisses.

            “Oh Yuuri!” he had gushed, his dazzling heart-shaped smile in full bloom. “You were so adorable today! Like a little toy soldier!”

            Yuuri hadn’t paid much attention to the rest of his boyfriend’s babbling, the words ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’ ringing in his ears for most of the night. For the first time since he’d met Victor, he had almost been glad to kiss him goodnight, just so he wouldn’t have to listen to his boyfriend go on about how “sweet” his routine was.

            And his pride still stung from the awfully low score he had received for the program – 99.9, more than ten points less than what he got for “Yuri On Ice” – and that he had barely scraped into the Quarter Final. His heart had dropped to his skates and his limbs filled with lead as he sloped off from the Kiss & Cry, his brain unable to work out where he gone so horribly wrong.

            Not that anyone else had noticed; as far as the rest of his team were concerned, he had intentionally meant to give a cutesy routine to contrast his serious program from the day before. Which didn’t help his gloomy mood.

            “What’s eating you?” Yurio frowned at him as he shoved the last pizza box into the bin with such force the cardboard squeaked and split. “Have you lost your white charger or something?” the teenager’s mouth twitched and he sniggered at his own joke, which only made Yuuri frown harder back at him.

            “The joke’s getting thin now, guys.” He muttered, his jaw clenched tight.

            “Aww,” Takeshi teased, grabbing Yuuri into a headlock and rubbing his knuckles against his thick hair, “has the Little Tin Soldier lost his wind-up key?” he laughed harder as the smaller Japanese man tried to yank himself out of the headlock, his fingers digging into Takeshi’s arm. “Come on, Sir Yuuri – fight the evil ogre!”

            Yuuri’s face burned bright red as the room filled with light-hearted laughter. With a loud, exasperated groan, he finally freed himself from under Takeshi’s arm and scowled.

            “For God’s sake!” he cried out, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. “Will everyone stop talking about me like I’m some cute little cuddly toy?”

            Takeshi held up an apologetic hand. “Take it easy, Yuuri. I was only fooling - ”

            “But it’s not just you!” Yuuri snapped, his heart pounding painfully in his chest as he yelled. “It’s everyone! You guys, the judges, the fans…”

            _‘Victor!’_ he thought to himself, shaking his head solemnly.

            Yurio narrowed his eyes at his namesake, his brow furrowing with a deep frown. “Wait a minute,” he said slowly, “are you trying to say…that you really _weren’t_ playing the ‘cute’ card? Were…were you trying to look like some kind of…tough guy?”

            Yuuri didn’t say anything, his mouth clamping shut into a tight line as another blush spread across his face.

            Yurio was quiet for a few seconds, before his mouth wobbled into a wicked grin. He snorted loudly, trying to keep his face straight and failing miserably. Within no time the teenager was clutching his sides, howling with laughter with tears streaking down his cheeks. Michele began to laugh too when he saw how embarrassed Yuuri was getting.

            “Seriously?” the Italian skater guffawed. “That’s what you think being tough looks like? Oh man, you must have led a really sheltered life before you came here!”

            “Mikey!” Sara scolded, despite her own lips quivering from a stifled giggle. “It’s not like you’re Mister Macho or anything. I’m sure Yuuri can be very tough when he wants to be.”

            “I wasn’t trying to be tough!” Yuuri spluttered, his eyes wide with frustration. “I was supposed to be a hero!”

            This only made the boys laugh harder, Yurio sinking to his knees with his arms wrapped around his stomach, Michele collapsing back into the armchair gasping for breath.

            Takeshi began to snigger too, despite Yuuko digging an elbow into his gut. “Sorry, buddy. But it just doesn’t sound like you.” The larger Japanese man shrugged.

            “I know!” Yuuri yelled at the top of his voice, making the others shrink away in shock. “I don’t need you lot reminding me every five seconds!”

            Spinning on his heel, he flung the door open and stomped into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. He dragged his fingers through his hair and leaned heavily against the wall, slowly sliding down until his butt hit the floor with a thump. Bringing his knees to his chin, he let out a long, agitated sigh and rubbed his face, knocking his glasses askew.

            He knew his teammates were just being playful, but he couldn’t help feeling so angry. Not at them, but at himself for getting his message so wrong for his program.

            ‘Where did I go wrong?’ he thought sullenly, hugging his legs closer to his chest. ‘Am I really that un-masculine that I can’t even play the hero? Does everyone see me as some cute little child, something to be cooed over and mollycoddled? What about Victor? How am I ever going to get him to see me as a real man if I can’t even convince my friends? Damn it, I’m twenty-three! I should be able to project some semblance of…’

            He sighed heavily, his mind stuttering for a moment. What exactly had he tried to project during his routine? Masculinity? Strength? Sexuality? Whatever it was, it had failed and it left him feeling deflated. Useless.

            ‘I don’t want Victor thinking I’m some helpless kid who needs his hand holding all the time. I want him to…I-I want him to…’

            He buried his face behind his knees and groaned quietly. Of course he knew what he wanted Victor to do, how he wanted Victor to see him – his reoccurring wet dream told him as much. But trying to spell it out to the real Victor made him so tongue-tied and anxious, he wasn’t really surprised, now that he thought about it, that the Russian sex symbol didn’t look at him that way.

            At least, Yuuri thought he didn’t. Ever since his failed fumble in the front seat of Victor’s car after their first date, Yuuri hadn’t really tried to go any further with Victor. Whenever they had managed to sneak away to meet for a secret training session, all they had done was kiss and hold hands. Yuuri had put it down to the fact that Victor was taking his coaching more seriously now that the Final was that much closer, but perhaps Victor was deliberately keeping him at arm’s length. But why? Surely he knew that Yuuri wanted their relationship to be more than just kissing?

            Yuuri blushed furiously, feeling his pants grow tight at the memory of the night before; after Victor had finished gushing about Yuuri’s ruined routine, he had pulled him close for a kiss.

            “A kiss worthy of a handsome Prince.” Victor’s melodic voice had echoed over the ice as he brushed his lips against Yuuri’s and, for a moment, Yuuri had completely forgotten how frustrated he was about his program. All he had cared about was just how soft and warm Victor’s lips had been against his, how the way Victor hummed quietly into his mouth when he deepened the kiss made him shiver and grip the back of the taller man’s sweater, how he loved the way his chest seemed to slot perfectly next to Victor’s, his heart racing faster and faster as Victor’s tongue danced against the roof of his mouth, his slender fingers carding through his hair as he hoarsely whispered his name –

            Only for it all to come to a skidding halt when Victor pushed him away, his hands firmly on Yuuri’s shoulders, his alabaster cheeks flushed a rosy pink and his lips wet and plumped.

            “W-wow!” Victor had panted, quickly readjusting his mussed-up fringe. “That…that kiss would wake the dead, never mind Sleeping Beauty!”

            Yuuri had timidly laughed at the awkward joke and had turned away, only so that Victor wouldn’t see how close he was to tearing up. His tracksuit pants had become tented and he had had to push himself to the far side of the rink just to get away from Victor before he noticed. He had discovered that it was near-impossible to skate at top speed with a semi-erection!

            Even now, slumped against the wall, he could feel himself growing hard again, and all the more frustrated for it. He might have been a virgin, but he wasn’t stupid; he knew that he was sexually attracted to Victor, and he had a feeling that Victor felt the same way about him, even if Victor seemed hesitant to take their relationship to the next level.

            _“I promise, when the moment is right, we will make love.”_

Victor’s sweet words echoed in his mind and he sighed. When was the right moment, he wondered? After the Grand Prix Final, once their secret was out in the open? Before? If they got married, like Victor had mentioned?

            At the time Yuuri had thought the idea was romantic. Now, it seemed like another dream just out of his reach. He took a cleansing breath, willing his heart to slow (and his erection to ebb away before anyone saw him!), scolding himself for overthinking. Again.

            “Yuuri?”

            His head snapped up at the quiet mention of his name. Yuuko and Minako were standing over him, Yuuko with a worried frown marring her pretty face, Minako looking at him with a raised brow and her hands on her hips, like she was trying to work out what was going on in his brain.

            He quickly locked his knees together under his chin, just in case it was still obvious that his thoughts hadn’t exactly been innocent, a fresh blush painting his face. He’d rather die on the spot than let Minako know he had just been thinking about Victor Nikiforov doing…things with him.

            ‘ _For the love of God, stop it!’_ a voice screamed in his head. _‘Before it happens again! In front of them!’_

            “Yuuri?” Yuuko repeated again when Yuuri buried his burning face against his knees, crouching down to pat his shoulder. “What’s going on with you?”

            “Nothing.” He mumbled into his knees.

            “It sure doesn’t look like nothing.” Minako snorted. “I’ve never seen you that fired up, though I have to admit Yurio’s been asking for someone to scream at him for a long time.”

            Yuuri sighed, bringing his head up but still not looking either woman in the eye. “It’s not just Yurio.”

            “I know, and I’ve just given the guys hell about it. Don’t worry, they’re going to stop teasing you.”

            _‘Great. Someone else holding my hand!’_

            Yuuko sat next to him on the floor, her hand gently rubbing his arm. “Yuuri, does this have anything to do with…your friend?” she asked tentatively, the squeak that burst from his throat giving her an answer. “Have they said anything about your program?”

            Yuuri pouted, his bottom lip sticking out childishly. “Nothing more than what you guys hadn’t already said.”

            Minako snorted derisively. “Wait, are you telling me that you went out there looking like a reject from Camelot to impress someone else? What, were you hoping you’d get into their pants with a cheesy routine like that?”

            Yuuri was sure his face was on fire. “N-n-no!” he choked. “Well…not quite – what I mean is, I-errr…oh crap!”

            Minako shook her head, a crooked smile dimpling her left cheek. “Yuuri, relax. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you keep stressing over things like this.” She sank to the carpet, leaning against the wall opposite him. “So, what did they say about your routine? They didn’t laugh at you, did they?”

            Yuuri sighed, still moping. “They…they said I was cute.”

            “And that’s bad because…?”

            He shrugged, his cheeks still burning. “It’s not. Not really. It’s just…”

            “It’s just not how you want your friend to see you.” Yuuko offered with a small smile. Yuuri nodded, his eyes locked on his knees. He was just grateful that Mari and his mum weren’t there to put their tuppence-worth into this conversation. It was embarrassing enough to talk about this with his former ballet teacher and one of his oldest friends.

            Minako scoffed. “So you want them to see you as what? Some macho Hercules? Yuuri, that’s just not you! And that’s why no one really took the routine seriously, at least not the way you wanted them to – you were trying too hard to be something you’re not.”

            Yuuri groaned. So he had been right. He wasn’t the hero type. No wonder Victor had patronised him.

            ‘ _That’s not fair.’_ A new, softer voice chided in his mind, surprising him. _‘He didn’t patronise you. He still loved your program and recognised that it was for him. That’s something.’_

            He smiled a little. “I guess you’re right.” He whispered, not realising he said it out loud.

            “Of course I’m right!” Minako said heartily, making Yuuri quickly refocus on her rather than his own inner dialogue. “Trust me, when it comes to men, I’m somewhat of an expert.”

            Yuuko giggled. “Toot your own horn, why don’t you?”

            Minako waggled her eyebrows at her. “Hey, I’m not ashamed about it! And that’s what works with guys – they know exactly what they’re getting from me from the beginning. There’s no point in trying to pretend to be someone you’re not, it doesn’t get you very far.”

            Yuuko hummed in agreement. “Look at Mari. She’s never been what you might call ‘feminine’, but she’s never had any problems when it comes to dating. She’s always embraced her individuality and uses it to her advantage.”

            “But how?” Yuuri asked before remembering that he didn’t really want to know the inner workings of his sister’s dating life. “I mean, what works when you’re trying to…you know…”

            Minako’s brow shot up again. “What? When you’re trying to seduce someone?”

            Yuuri hid his face in his hands and groaned. “Forget I said anything!”

            “No, no.” she said gently, folding her arms over her chest. “Yuuri, are you asking for a sex talk? Because I think Taka or your dad are probably better for - ”

            “ _I don’t want to talk about sex!_ ” he shrieked, clapping a hand over his mouth when the words echoed in the hall. He wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear; there was no way the others in the room hadn’t heard him. “Look, let’s just say I was trying to seduce someone – I’m not saying I am! – but…if I was, what’s the best way to do it?”

            Minako cackled. “Well I usually find copious amounts of alcohol does wonders, but somehow I don’t think that’s your style.”

            Yuuri remembered the night he’d met Victor, outside the nightclub. He remembered the taste of alcohol on Victor’s tongue when they’d first kissed. He swallowed thickly, suppressing a new wave of lust before either of the women noticed. “N-no,” he stammered, “I’d rather not be drunk. I get too much like dad when I drink. I don’t think anyone would call him sexy.”

            “You mean, apart from your mum!”

            “Shut up!” he groaned, but he found himself chuckling a little bit, some of the tension in his gut easing away. “You know what I mean. Look, I tried playing the hero and that clearly doesn’t work for me, but I don’t want Vi – anyone thinking I’m cute either!”

            He felt a bead of sweat form on his temple as he prayed that neither of them caught on to his near-slip. He chewed the inside of his cheek; it was getting harder to not mention Victor’s name, especially to two of his closest friends.

            “But it’s not like you’ve had much experience in the sex department to come across as anything other than cute.” Minako chuckled, shaking her head at him. “You can’t go from saint to sinner just like that.” She stated with a snap of her fingers. “That comes with experience – a lot of it!”

            “Not necessarily.” Yuuko mused, feeling bad for the way Yuuri’s face seemed to be permanently set to blush. “It takes confidence to be sexy, so maybe you just need to work on that. And sex appeal isn’t all lewd faces and innuendo, as that idiot Chris would have you believe – real sex appeal is what’s natural to you, a sort of juiced-up version of yourself that makes the other person excited to see you again.”

            “Kind of like how you get excited about having Katsudon at the end of every season.” Minako sniggered, making Yuuri frown at her.

            “Really?” he retorted hotly. “Katsudon? Thanks Minako – problem solved! I just have to think about pork cutlet bowls and I’ll suddenly become the world’s sexiest man!”

            Minako’s sniggering only got worse at the dark glint in Yuuri’s eyes. “Oh man, I can totally see it! “Look at me, I’m a steaming bowl of pork, egg and rice! Come drool over me!” Oh my god!” the coach clutched her sides as her laughter filled the hallway.

            “YOU’RE NOT HELPING!”

            “Now, now.” Yuuko soothed, stifling a small snort. “She’s not too far off the truth; seduction has to make you feel at your most natural, like you suddenly think ‘why have I never been like this before?’ and you know that the other person is thinking the same thing too and likes it.”

            “So what’s your natural seduction technique?” Yuuri asked shortly, still glaring at Minako as she wiped her eyes. “Go on, tell me how you seduced Takeshi.”

            Yuuko squeaked, blushing beetroot. “Well, umm…” she twisted her fingers together. “a-actually he seduced me.”

            Yuuri and Minako gawped at her, making her squirm uncomfortably.

            “We were kids when we started dating, as you know. And, well, one night he came by to pick me up for a date and he heard me arguing with my mum; she was having a go at me for wearing makeup and not wanting to go into an arranged marriage.”

            “Your parents tried to put you in an arranged marriage?” Minako gasped. “Talk about old-fashioned! My parents didn’t even mention that when I was younger.”

            Yuuko shrugged, rubbing her arms. “Well, my mum was a bit of a tiger mum. Anyway, Taka heard us shouting and I guess I was crying and he came bursting in, totally scaring the life out of me and mum, and told her to leave me alone.”

            “He did?” Yuuri gaped. Takeshi was always a big presence in the school playground, many kids mistaking his size and loud demeanour as that of a bully, when really he was just boisterous. He could easily imagine him scaring someone when he wanted to.

            Yuuko nodded, a coy smile curling her lips upwards, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “He said: “If Yuuko wants to wear makeup, or short skirts or stiletto heels, that’s up to her – it’s her body. And as for an arranged marriage…I swear I’ll steal her away before that happens!”

            Yuuri gasped, awestruck at the image of a teenaged Takeshi saying that to a domineering tiger mum. “And? What did your mum do?”

            “She threw him out of the house by his ear and banned me from seeing him. So, naturally I packed a bag and moved in with him and his parents. And you know the rest.”

            Minako scoffed. “So, he didn’t actually seduce you. You went with him out of some need to rebel against your smothering family.”

            Yuuko’s smile brightened. “Actually that was the day I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. He stood up for me and helped me realise who I wanted to be. He supported me. To me…that’s the sexiest thing a man can do.”

            Minako snorted. “Well, just goes to show we had different experiences growing up; I found that the best way to seduce a guy is to use what the good Lord gave me - ” she jumped to her feet, running a hand down her side to her hip and shimmying her shoulders, tossing her long hair with a cheeky wink, “- let me tell you, I haven’t had to pay for a drink on a night out since I outgrew my training bra!”

            Yuuko shrieked with laughter, covering her rosy cheeks with her hands. “Minako! You’re so bad!”

            “What?” Minako grinned indignantly. “You got seduced by a guy who wanted you to be yourself – I’ve seduced guys by being the woman they didn’t know they wanted until they met me.”

            Yuuko rolled her eyes. “Great. So all we’ve done is tell Yuuri that in order to seduce someone, he has to be himself, but not himself, to be natural, but also a fantasy, and to think about Katsudon! Sorry Yuuri, guess we weren’t much help.”

            Yuuri wasn’t listening. He slowly slid his feet out, stretching his legs from under his chin, his mind whirling with a thousand different ideas and scenarios as he rose to his feet. All of them ending one way; with Victor looking at him like he never wanted to look away.

            _“I wanted to surprise you more than you surprised me. This was the only thing I could think of.”_

            His eyes began to sparkle behind his glasses. He wanted to keep surprising Victor. If he had managed to surprise him enough to risk a kiss in front of a crowded arena, imagine the look on Victor’s face if he somehow managed to seduce him in front of thousands of people.

            His body hummed with the mere thought of it!

            “Actually,” he said slowly, wrapping a hand around Minako’s wrist and proceeding to pull her down the hallway, “I think you’ve both given me an idea for my next program.”

            “We have?!” Minako sounded stunned, though that may have been because she nearly stumbled behind him as he picked up his pace.

            Yuuri felt an excited grin pinch his cheeks. “Hai! In fact, I want to get started on the choreography now while it’s fresh in my mind. I need your help, Minako.”

            “Me? How? You haven’t even picked a song yet! Escales isn’t announcing the theme for the Quarter Finals until Monday, what if your routine doesn’t fit?”

            “Then I’ll just have to surprise everyone again.” Yuuri fought the urge to run to the hotel gym, dragging his coach behind him as a scenario began to play in his mind.

            Minako and Yuuko were right, he couldn’t be the hero. It just wasn’t him. But with the right choreography, he knew he could show Victor the side of him even he hadn’t fully discovered yet; a confident, natural, sexy side of him that only Victor was truly allowed to see. Surely that would be a better expression of how he really felt.

            “Minako,” he called over his shoulder, adrenaline making his voice come out breathy and shrill, “do you think you could show me how to move like you?”

            Minako’s frown was so deep it looked like a canyon in the centre of her forehead. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

            Yuuri nodded excitedly. “I’ll explain when we get to the gym. But I do know one thing:

            I want you to teach me how to move like a woman!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oOOOOooooOOOOOoooo I wonder what Yuuri's got in mind?!? (≖ᴗ≖) *cackle*
> 
> Soooo this month's been kinda crazy in RL; I've been offered more hours in work, which is good for my payslip but bad for my writing lol. Hopefully I can keep up with the monthly updates, but I'll let you know if that changes :) 
> 
> It was my birthday on Monday!! :D I'm 31 AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!! I got spoiled rotten by the hubby ^_^ and had an awesome girls' night out to see a play called 'The Full Monty', which involved some cuuuute guys getting NAKED hahahaha XD
> 
> I've hit a bit of a wall, writing-wise, over the last week. I haven't felt my best and I took a step back and focused on something else (in this case, turning the spare room into a library). Hopefully I can get back into the swing of things, so please bear with me.
> 
> For those of you who read my omegaverse series, [The Baby Diaries](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1122588), I'm sorry for being so quiet. I'm working on something special and pretty big, so please be patient with me lol ＿|￣|○
> 
> The next chapter of Star-Crossed will be posted on **THURSDAY 25TH APRIL** , when one of my original tags will come into play...
> 
> See you in the comments!! XXXXXX

**Author's Note:**

> How am I doing so far?
> 
> I should point out now, my knowledge of skating only goes as far as the anime, so I'll probably be making a lot of stuff up as I go along. This is done with love, so please don't hate me!
> 
> I hope you stay with me on this; this is my first long fanfic, and I'm known in my family as "The Great Procrastinator" so I am determined to see this through to the end :D
> 
> See you next level! xx


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